Golden Sun III: The Seal of the Gods
by Justadude42
Summary: What happens when the Beacons were meant for more than just Alchemy and the Sun? What if one man holds the keys for this? What if even he is defeated, the horrors beyond him cannot even hope to compare? War, Gods, Power. Full summary inside.
1. Fleeting Companions

Summary: (picks up immediately after GS2, so anything in GSDS that's going to happen (yay!) will not occur in this tale.) What if the beacons held the keys to something far greater than just the sun? What if they held the keys to the very fabric of the universe? What if the sun affected more than just two people? What if Gods themselves became very involved? What if Alchemy had a love affair with all? What if wars became the mainstay revived from long ago?

What if… a man, insane as they come, knew more about life and malevolence than anyone could ever hope to achieve? Could he be stopped, and if he could, would it even be worth it compared to the terrors beyond him? Read, to find out.

Welcome to the, if any of you remember this story on this site a few years back, now updated Golden Sun III: The Seal of the Gods. I had put this on hiatus really until my style had increased to a satisfactory level, and I think that this is pretty good. The problem: I don't have much time to write, so any writing I do isn't a priority, unless I'm encouraged. If you guys become really interested, I'll have to write. If not… there's an actual novel for me to do.

But still, I care very much so for this story, and believe that it deserves to be written anyways. Practice or not, I still want this to be good. I hope you guys enjoy the story, and no, this is not a one-shot. I just write very, very much. Enjoy chapter one!

Note: About the rating. I do not screen what I right. If someone gets chopped in two, they're getting chopped in two vividly. Same for language, same for sex, same for anything else feel is inappropriate. This is life, and it's not difficult to read it. But, if you don't enjoy reading that sort of material, don't read this story. (Really though, the rating is more for safety than anything else.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, concepts, or locations, or even the game of Golden Sun one and two.

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Chapter One: Fleeting Companions

Isaac knocked his head back and stared up at the night sky. It was decorated from zenith to hemispheres with more stars than he thought possible. There were no clouds there to impede them, and as full and bright as the moon was, it made no great move to outshine their pure glamour. The scene was serene, the time late, and atmosphere positively enrapturing. It caused Isaac to feel relaxed amongst his inner turmoil.

What he felt was a multitude of emotions, none of which were specific and obvious, yet all were general and inconspicuous. His mind had been racing to find the right one to describe himself with, yet every answer led to another fork in the road, that oh so terrible choice. Should he choose to go right, it would lead to more inquiries. In the same breath, should he travel left, he would maybe get another answer, with another two questions just for fun. It was a never ending cycle of cat and mouse, with Isaac playing the middleman and getting no respect for it.

His form leaned against the banister railing of the porch he now stood on. The wood was sturdy and supporting, as any oaken form should be, and yet the oak itself had not been painted or stained, leaving its natural coarse sensation. He shook his head, feeling his terribly unkempt and untamable hair shake from side to side. It was not much, but the cool air of night, the sky of painted stars, and his long time companion named Luna made him feel at least a little more "at home" and relaxed.

Four weeks ago, Isaac committed the exact same sin that he had once set out to prevent long before. It was neither stupidity nor ignorance that caused him to do this, but rather a certain share of enlightenment. The world was dying, slowly and surely. With that, the inexplicable proof laid before him, with most of his friends, his dear friends, standing to save it, the best way they knew how. While it was not his job at first to light the remaining beacons, it was however his duty to save Weyard, and that he would do in any way possible. So a choice needed to be made: To prevent the death of Weyard and to commit what he had sworn never to do, or to follow his original plight and forgo any sense of wits, and essentially aid in Weyard's ultimate destruction. Isaac found that he needed no large amount of encouragement in respect to this, and found the strength needed to help light the final lighthouse of Mars.

It was a treacherous journey towards the end, through the frigid North and dragons of fire and cosmic entities, climaxing with the near death of his father. But somehow, miraculously, nothing disastrous happened. The Wise One, the employer of his original charge, near betrayed them he believed, and refused to change his thoughts on the matter. Yet aside from that, they saved the world.

Alchemy was let loose on all the peoples of Weyard, and it would seem that although this power was released, nothing horrendous had happened. No grand struggles of power rippled through humanity, and ancient wars of old never reemerged from history. It was as if nothing changed; nothing at all.

In fact the opposite did, and a large festival occurred in Vault, where Isaac currently resided. The party was luxurious and random, with drunks and dancers abroad. Each of the heroes and heroines of that fateful day on the Mars Lighthouse allowed themselves to be free on that night. They celebrated harder than they ever had thought possible, and then celebrated some more. All the people of Vale did, and even their new neighbors in Vault, once coming to the realization of what truly happened (after a much needed hard and long lesson), came to enjoy themselves. It was night to remember, and one that would definitely not be forgotten.

But now was neither party nor heroic for Isaac. Now, for Isaac, was the time for confusion. He admitted it to no one, but lately he had been wondering what this new feeling was inside of him. He felt as if there was something unobtrusive, yet annoyingly in the way, growing inside of him. He danced around the idea that this feeling was a second him, yet nothing supported that. Even he himself made the thought distant. There was no evidence of this, or anything of difference, as nothing was different at all, yet the feeling remained and the wonder only intensified.

The sensation itself did not arise until after the Mars star had been thrown into its beacon. _Actually…_ thought Isaac, _I started to feel this way right after the beacon was lit_. Isaac had no answers at this fork, only more questions.

Isaac sighed and leaned more heavily on the railing. He was tired. He was tired of thinking, tired of feeling, tired of wondering. To want nothing more than to relax was a blessing in disguise. But to have it ripped away whenever it was just obtained was a curse. With another sigh Isaac let his head drop down so he looked over the edge of the porch. He felt his hair fall with him, and almost instantly wished his entire being would fall with it. Lazily, he watched a street cat rummage through the trash, before finally giving up and laying against it instead to sleep.

He heard a plank creak behind him, and he jumped, his entire being becoming erect and alert. Throughout the course of his journey, when staying up at night on the open rode, even the slightest of sounds could have meant that a predator was around. Isaac's body was tuned to the sense of hearing, and just as the sense of rigidness arose, it dissipated. He knew who was there.

She came up from behind him and leaned against the banister in the same manner as he was. Isaac gave her a cursory look, seeing her balmy, red hair sway with her form. Her hair was not tied up like usual, yet he made no real notice of it. Underneath it was her auburn eyes, not really looking at anything, yet staring intently at the flicking lights coming from the windows in Vault. It was a lightshow in its gentlest form.

"Hey," he uttered without much thought.

He heard her say the same back, in the same manner and tone. He would have called mockery had he not known it was playfulness.

They stayed like that for a few moments until a sudden realization came upon him, this time being unusual enough to make note of it and inquire as to why the change. "Jenna… it's late. Why are you up?"

Jenna made no move to answer him right away, and instead stared out to the village. Vault was not nearly as big as some of the other towns they had visited, yet at night it still looked amazing. One could tell, the town here matched the sky in all its peacefulness.

She looked up and over to him, her eyes closed with her smile. "Wondering the same about you because it IS late, to be honest," she said gaily. "So, how about it? What's up?"

Noticing her inquisitiveness, Isaac laughed. It was not often, but there were times when Jenna would catch Isaac at a most vulnerable state. By vulnerable, it meant he was completely readable, and by not often it meant all the time. Somehow, in some indirect manner, Isaac had become a living, breathing, book to Jenna over the course of their years knowing one another. Whether it was because they were childhood friends or because they bonded closer than most other people, he could not fathom. But in any case, Isaac had long ago given up on trying to close his mind to her, it was futile. He just let things flow, if anything to keep her from getting too over-active with him.

He regained control of his laugh and said rather blankly, "Well, you should already know, hmm? I could go on and on about how I am confused about this and that, but really, that's just wasting time." Isaac looked around him, the stars once again beckoning him. "And at this time of night, who really wants to waste time?"

She cooed, shaking her head. "A lot of people waste time Isaac, you should know that. People all over the world can do that. For some people even, it's all they ever do."

Isaac picked up on the sullenness added to the latter statement. "I'm not like other people then," he said with a grin.

"No, you're not!" She laughed a bit, or a lot rather, at that. "That's why you're hard-headed and almost always stressed out. And that's why you became our 'de facto' leader of our entire journey after you finally came back; I'm sure you remember. But that's not really the point, is it? The point is, you're confused, you're awake instead of asleep, and I want to know why because it's bothering me. So, what is so different right now?"

_She's being hard-headed herself…_ Isaac sighed recognizably at the irony and said, "Nothing's ever different or unnatural."

"So then what's natural?"

"Nothing's ever natural."

"What?" Jenna tilted her head characteristically, and Isaac did his best to not notice, lest he become even more of an open book.

"What I mean is nothing is ever normal or not normal. The concept is a completely fake and human idea, just to guard ourselves from what we call 'different'. Everything that we see, hear, and feel is completely real. People can try to use its broken idea as a way of trying to avoid the truth, but really, all they are doing is harming themselves with lies. There's no such thing as normal and natural and whatever. Things are just what they are, and always will be. That's what I believe, at any rate."

Jenna cooed again, and looked thoughtful. Briefly, Isaac wondered whether he had made any headway, particularly in distracting her from her original question.

When she turned to look at him, he knew he had not at all; and perhaps even promoted her curiosity even more.

"I wasn't asking for you to go off track, you know. Really, what's bothering you?" The pleading look she gave him was distracting from his somewhat sad attempt at stoicism. She added, "And I fully agree with you, by the way."

"Oh, well that's good… And it's not much that is bothering me. I just wanted to come outside and check out the stars. And the moon, too. They're beautiful tonight." He knew his attempt to fake his way out of this failed miserably.

"Liar, you've been up here since before I went to sleep. But I'll let it go for now, because I know you'll tell me eventually." She watched him sigh in relief. "In return though, you have to go to bed, right now," she added with a snicker.

"I'm not tired."

"Liar again! Last time you were up this late you passed out in your supper the next day."

Isaac deadpanned and looked to the side, at nothing in particular. "Shush." He folded his arms defensively and made no further comment on the matter. He made no further movements as well, except to remain stubborn.

Jenna folded her arms as well for a few moments, carefully staring him down. He was being too stubborn though, and the stare down she was used to using was not working as intended. So instead she grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to drag him back into the inn that they and all their friends were staying at. "Come on Isaac!" she commanded. "You've got to get some sleep. I know I won't if I have to keep worrying about you."

He tried to resist lightly at first, but soon found that it was no use. So instead he planted his feet firmly and took back his arm from her grasp. When she turned to look at him in frustration, he said, "Oh, so you were worrying about me, were you?" He laughed, openly, and completely directed it to the sky and her.

Flushing, she said "Yeah? What's you're point? Jerk! I'm allowed to worry!" She watched him laugh even louder, and she shouted, "You ignorant jerk!"

Jenna took a swing at him, which he mechanically dodged. As they both recaptured their balance, Isaac leaned in for a hug and held Jenna firmly. He felt her blush through her sudden rigidness. Feeling the warmth come through her clothes, he said to her calmly, "I know you're allowed to worry… And I want you to do that, too. Thanks, Jenna."

Releasing her and without looking back, Isaac departed from the porch and disappeared into the dark of the inn. He left her standing in the cool air, blushing, and holding herself gently. She looked over her shoulder and back into the darkness of the inn, where she knew he was. And smiled, knowing that for once he had actually gotten her beat on reading him.

She walked slowly back to the inn, where her warm bed was, in contrast to where she was. On her way, she smiled even more and giggled, "Jerk."

XXX

Isaac awoke to find himself on a hard surface. It was grating to the skin, and no matter how he moved, all he felt was pain. He vaguely wondered what kind of bed he fell asleep on, but had no such desire to open his eyes and check his surroundings. But the more he tried to move, the more uncomfortable he felt, until finally he slurred sleepily, "The springs are shot…!"

When he opened his eyes, he realized he was on the floor, and the entire bedspread was on top of him rather than under him. He huffed in a small sense of recognition, and then climbed back into the bed, leaving the blankets and pillow behind him. Usually, when he found himself asleep on a floor of some sort, it was because he had originally fallen asleep there. To find himself there after starting on a bed was rather confounding, yet Isaac really had no urge to think.

Curiosity had won out in his mind though, and slowly but surely he began running through his options on how he wound up on the floor. Being pushed off had no standing, as he would have woken from that. So did an earthquake, as that too would have woken him, and the building and room would look far more unkempt. So, that left one more real reason. He had another of those "night terrors", as he called him, and he thrashed around to the point that he fell off his bed.

…_Yes… it was definitely one of those again._

They were terrible, to be blunt. They had no real purpose other than horrifying Isaac to no tangible end. In all of them, his friends were included. In all of them, he himself was included, in some sort of heroic position of some sort. And in all of them, his friends died. There was blood, pestilence, tears, hate, disgust, steel, deep forests, and… the rain.

Oh, that dreadful harbinger of pain, the rain! Isaac enjoyed the rain, he honestly did. He loved the feel, its cool relief in the form of drops. The pitter-patter sound it made on roofs, floors, dirt, and just about anything; it was all music to his ears. Oftentimes, he loved those grey, cloudy days more than the sunny ones, just in the hopes of seeing the rain. Yet in his dreams, what should have been his most sacred retreat, was instead a battleground of fear. And every time, every single time; the rain stormed overhead the ravages of that war, and gave no leeway when the battle ended solemnly. It was as if the rain, terror, and death were all holding hands in Isaac's dreams, and instead of relief, Isaac only saw the rain slowly spread blood along the ground.

The blood of his friends. _Of my friends…_

Isaac shook his head violently as an attempt to whisk the thought far from his physical form. He sulked, his head bobbing limply, and he felt himself raise a palm to his temple. It inadvertently covered his right eye, and he used the other to stare outside through his window.

It was sunny, maddeningly so. There were no clouds, no relief, just the brazen sun shining effortlessly through his window. Isaac found it ironic, how while in his dreams, the rain would take part in the worst of his nightmares, his "night terrors", yet when he was awake, all he would wish for was rain. All the time, all day, it could rain, and he would be at peace. It was so ironic for him, so very much so.

He laughed, heartily so. He was alone in the room, and he laughed even harder, the irony too much for him. Isaac wanted peace so much, and here before him, instead of being in the usual form of rain, it came as a sound, an uncontrollable bout of mirth.

Isaac slammed a fist down on his bed as the laugh subsided, in an effort to end it and regain composure. He needed the laugh, the brief stint of happiness, he admitted that. But he figured it best if he stopped and got up, and readied himself to go downstairs. It was hunger really that drove him to this thought, but also the nagging wonder of where all his friends were. They hadn't woken him up, which was unusual.

Slowly, but surely, Isaac dragged himself out of the comforts of his bed. He bent over, and grabbed up all his bed-sheets and pillows in a heap, and in the same manner dropped them on the bed. Feeling no need to make it all up, just because he would mess it up again that night, he left it alone and instead turned to his dresser. He grabbed the clothes he was so used to wearing, a combination of a blue tunic, pants, boots, and cloak, and proceeded to methodically put them on. There was not much thought to this process, and in turn there was not much thought in Isaac's head as well. He simply did, like any other meaningless task, and then turned to the door of his room, and walked out.

As he meandered his way down the stairs, he realized that it was too late to get breakfast at the inn, and it was far too early for supper, and he knew that they did not serve lunch. Isaac muttered a few curses, complaining about his grumbling stomach. Slowly, without much to hurry over aside from the hunger pangs, he wandered past the lobby, and through the front door of the inn. It was then he noticed just how blazingly hot it was. He muttered some more, cursing the sun for being merciless, and then moved the hood on his cloak over his head to keep the sun away from his face.

He sighed, and wondered if there were many other places serving food at this time of day. He could only hope, really, that somewhere served lunch at high noon. Maybe he would even run into one of his friends, if he was lucky enough. At least it would make things more interesting.

XXX

Somewhere, on the route between Vault and the nearest Angaran shoreline, a man stood confidently. His clothing consisted of a crimson tunic, with torso chain mail covering that, followed by a hardened leather vest over that. On his arms were leather bands around three to four inches wide sprinkled about, and he wore leather gloves as well. His leggings were of simple cloth, the same color as his tunic, but one could tell there was more chain mail beneath that. He wore boots as means for walking, but they showed small hints of battle here and there, meaning they were not just for show.

His skin was rather pale, even though it looked as though he went through much physical exertion. Scarlet hair just a few inches long fell flat messily all around his head, making daring attempts at covering his eyes. The eyes themselves were icy, grey, and yet strangely electric. They seemed to pierce anything they rested on. For a brief moment that was the sun, and then they turned to what the tall man held firmly in his hand: a weapon.

That weapon was a halberd, intricately designed so that it was unique to all others of its kind. From end to end it was coated to a cobalt sheen that seemed to emit its own energy. Towards the top, it tipped off as a spear, directly under that a huge axe-head was attached. A black lacquer substance held those two pieces together, firmly, and there seemed no real way to force it undone. At the bottom, which was stubbornly planted in the ground, another spearhead was attached via the lacquer, making the weapon deadly from both ends.

The man grinned, not out of happiness or of the realization of a good challenge, but rather out of recognition, acknowledgement. He swung the halberd side to side with both hands, enjoying weight and feel, how it was perfectly balanced. When he was completely satisfied, he hefted it effortlessly over his head and placed it in a holder that was strapped to his back.

Letting go, he cackled, staring out to the sun and the road ahead. He sneered, "It's almost time… things are moving like clockwork and… it's almost time! I can't wait, not a bit, I can't at all! Soon, it will be time to amass everything, and a power greater than that of the sun will be within my grasp. The very fabric of this world-no, all worlds-will be mine to wield! Everything is going exactly as I thought, and knew, and hell, everything! I knew it would be like this, everything turned out just like this." He continued to laugh, giggle even, it casting an eerie echo into the valley below.

"It's almost time…"

He cast one more cursory glance to the road, before maneuvering himself into the forest beside him. He committed himself to lie in wait there, to tie up loose ends, all of them, and then to finally start his long destined journey.

XXX

The problem with waking up in the early afternoon, Isaac continued to tell himself, is that almost no restaurant provides service at that time. He had been wandering for close to an hour now, and still he had had no luck in finding a restaurant. All that he did find were either just closing up after breakfast hours, or were going to open later for some sort of dinner. Neither of these did Isaac any good, and he found the pangs in his stomach getting more and more irritating by the minute. He honestly believed that if he did not find some sort of food soon, he would not be held responsible for what he did.

As he walked passively through the streets, having no energy due to hunger and abnormal heat, he wished that he had been woken up like usual. That way, of course, instead of walking out in prime roasting hours, he could be residing in the shade somewhere with a full stomach. Maybe even, just maybe, he could even use that time to find a half decent job as well. Although, even he had to admit that finding one at this time was a bother that was really worthless, as jobs were incredibly scarce now that the population doubled with so many refugees from Vale.

But right now, Isaac had not a care in the world. He felt eccentric, his knees weak, and his ability to hold his posture, let alone walk in a straight line, were seriously lacking. Gazing from side to side, he realized that he did have at least one care: he was hungry. Unfortunately, though he had been in Vault at least twice before, he had never actually traversed it, so he had no idea where anything was, and he had no map either. A dreadful situation, he believed himself to be in.

Then, as if some being far more supernatural than he could sense answered his prayers, he felt cool air draft from a medicinal commodities store directly to his left. He turned gravely to it, grimacing, food still deeply etched in his mind… yet he needed to rest, to cool off. Isaac was sure he was becoming feverish in this heat, and without so much as a second thought, he lugged himself into the store…

And from there, he wound up with his back on the musty floor below him. It was cool, Isaac gave it that much. It had given him some resemblance of relief, yet it puzzled him as to how he was there instead of standing up. He was positive he hadn't tripped, and he KNEW he had not collapsed. _So then… why am I on the floor…?_

"Come ON! It's a sale, saaaaaale. The sign says so right there! I pay you money for one herb, and I get one free. You've heard of 'buy one, get one free' before 'cause you made the damn sign! Now hand it over!"

Isaac recognized that voice. It was brash, violent, and a tad dumb, reminding him vaguely of the guy that would always sleep and eat more than him, just like a lazy bum. Beyond that, this person had hair that spiked, and brown eyes that were not quite deep enough to warrant the intelligence that he had. Sadly though, for Isaac and for this person, Garet, his best friend, was certainly not showing any of his smarts, however hidden they were.

A smaller, meeker voice spoke up after that, its owner short yet strong, with blond hair and violet eyes that did, in fact, do justice to at least the common sense he held. "Garet, get a hold of yourself! It's really not worth it! And look at what you did to Isaac, you just knocked him over!"

Isaac noticed two hands grab hold of him, followed by them aiding in his recovery. His head sagged over to the small boy's direction, and his were cut just enough to make the boy wonder if he was even conscious. His energy practically gone, Isaac simply uttered a question.

"What the hell is going on Ivan… and gimme a good reason why I shouldn't just knock him," he gestured over to Garet with his thumb, "-out?"

He watched numbly as Ivan raised his hands in defense, the heat clearly getting to him as well based off of the sweat rolling down his head. The boy grinned nervously, admitting his defeat in the matter without much of a fuss. "Just watch Isaac, or listen really. You'll see."

Watching and listening was easier than comprehending, so Isaac complied with his friend. He stood up shakily, but refused to lose so much of his composure as to actually lean against something.

The show though, really left much to be desired. First there was idiot number one, his bold and blunt best friend, angrily making his argument, following it up with much boasting. Clearly, he was right because the sign was there when he decided to buy his precious herb.

But, then we have idiot number two. This man happened to be the store clerk, or manager, or whoever was in charge, Isaac stopped caring. He wore a-what Isaac thought was originally white-apron, that was completely stained over with dirt, grease, dust, and other store apparels. That there, weakened his defense, which in and of itself had little to no standing. Basically, the defense was that when Garet bought his product in question, which was medicinal herbs, the clerk had already plucked the sign up and away from the crate that held them.

So in Isaac's mind, if neither of these two fools were lying, then the entire thing was a misdemeanor, with Garet slightly in the right. Garet did, in fact, pick up the herbs to buy while the sign was still there. And in the time it took him to finish shopping and get to the check-out area, the clerk had removed the sign, thinking no one had bought anything. But really, that meant not a thing, as the two most stubborn fools in the world stood facing off between one another right before his-and everyone else in the store's-eyes.

Ivan groaned inwardly, and spat out in a sigh, "Isaac… just buy it for him and end this. I'll pay you back later. Garet has all the money right now so I can't."

Isaac himself sighed, the exertion more than he felt like doing. _I just wanted to eat and maybe relax today, really, that was all._ But the embarrassment was a good motivator, and Isaac strolled up to the enraged clerk and handed him the money for both herbs. He snatched the herbs from the still frustrated clerk, and the sack Garet was holding, and then placed the fought-over item into it. Handing it over to Ivan, he gave a look to both Garet and the clerk.

To the clerk, he said, "There, I just paid for both of them. Stop acting like an idiot, because this guy over here was actually right, but I'm tired of listening to this. Next time, take your damn sign down in the morning or something so this way no one else has to be enlightened to your stupidity."

He turned to Garet, who would apparently still seem to be fuming to anyone else, but Isaac knew he was calming himself down. "Garet, just drop it next time, okay? It's not worth the time to argue over a pittance for money. Eh?"

Garet crossed his arms childishly, but no less fearsome. He muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I read you. Sorry about that." Then he grunted and left the store, taking off down the street Isaac came in from.

He could still hear Garet when he heard Ivan say from behind him, "Thanks, Isaac." As Isaac turned to face him, he continued with, "I'm going to go have a chat with Sheba." The conviction in his voice did not strike Isaac as anything out of the ordinary.

He waved him on, and as he did, he saw Ivan look over his shoulder and heard him say, "You take care of yourself, Isaac."

Now that was out of the ordinary. But as he stood there in the store, watching him walk down the street after Garet, the sun beating on his head as he walked, and the guy beside him still fuming over the argument, Isaac realized two things. First, it was probably nothing what Ivan meant, so therefore that meant he did not need to think about it right now, which was very unlike him. Second, he was still hungry, and this store was no longer refreshing in the slightest.

So with that, he took a deep breath, as if he was going to take a leap of faith right back into a hell of torment, and stepped outside. As he walked, he had no idea that exactly what he didn't want to happen was actually happening, and all his friends, his comrades, were leaving Vault for home.

XXX

The young woman stood before Vault's gates, gazing up at its sturdy, but incredibly simple structure. They more than suited the town, not only going along with it in terms of color, theme and style, but even the culture. Vault was by common knowledge mostly a home for farmers, while the parts that seemed more bustling were its slowly growing merchant community. There was no doubt it would be a major contender in terms of mercantile wealth some day when compared to its neighbors of Kalay and Bilibin.

As for the young woman, she stood not very tall, but her virgin white and deep azure robes let her flaunt her dignity openly. They were exotic really, bearing the markings of both Northern Gondowan desert-dwellers, as well as seals from an ancient civilization that has long since left this world. Hooked intimately in her robe's waist sash, under her violet cloak that also bore the symbol of Jupiter, was her favored mace. A morning star in essence, there was nothing completely outstanding about it, with the exception of the spikes that erupted randomly around its spherical nature.

Her hair was golden, the back now sagging down to her shoulders, as well as the sides. The bangs she grew also rested just above her violet eyes, threatening to cover their majestic beauty. The style was overall different from the way she used to have it, mainly because she made the choice to finally grow it out.

She gazed lazily around her position, in the middle of the street, where the sun shone brightest, where the relief of shade was no where to be seen, and smirked in the face of heat. The desert was far worse than this, she believed, and then she promptly turned to her auburn-haired friend, desperately trying to keep away from the heat. This woman noticed her smirking, and only snapped jokingly back at her.

"I don't care how you were in the desert your whole life Sheba, to the rest of us normal humans, it's hot. That's all there is to it."

Sheba gave a deeper smirk, not arguing the point. "Good that you know, Jenna. Still, I think it's just lovely weather out." She twirled her body this way and that, enjoying the sun with its every ray of light.

Hiding in the shadow of a building and watching her, Jenna sighed deeply. It was too hot, and she had not sweated this much in the longest time. How Sheba could wear those clothes, move around like that, and still claim that the heat did not bother her, Jenna had no idea. The heat itself was unusual for the day, and she was certain another golden-haired someone was just about now complaining about that heat… that and hunger. For a moment she smiled, thinking Isaac was not that different from Garet when it came to physical need.

And immediately afterwards, she frowned, realizing how bad that same person was going to feel once he realized what was going on. _But it's for the best…_ she told herself over and over again. In fact, she was going to force herself to believe it, if necessary. Isaac would not be able to handle a big goodbye, and he hated them with a passion. So to save him the trouble, she came up with the idea that everyone would leave super early one morning, and he would be told farewell from a secondary perspective. Every one of his friends was in on it, with the exception of Isaac himself.

She grimaced, a twinge of guilt pulling at one of her heart strings. She hated that she had come up with the idea, and even more so that everyone had agreed with her, and even more so still, that she was utterly correct in her assumption. It was best to let him stay in the dark until this one painful part in him blew over, and then he would not worry, he wouldn't worry at all. He would just shrug, mentally wish them a safe trip, feel a fraction of the pain he normally would, and then move on. It was easier, she thought.

Jenna looked up as Sheba called out from her place on the dust-ridden, dirt street. "When are Ivan and Garet getting here? It's been almost an hour already." On the inside, Jenna grinned at the girl complaining. The Id inside of her was pleased to get some sort of "vengeance" at being mocked over hating the heat.

"I don't know, but I hope soon. It's really ho-," she interrupted herself, refusing to say that word and complain again about it, and instead said, "It's really boring waiting for them."

The bait was taken, and Sheba groaned, impatience getting the best of her and not suiting her at the same time. As Sheba puffed and crossed her arms, attempting to regain her composure, she saw another red-headed person stomp his way over to her, followed by a golden-haired kid.

"What took you two so long?" She held her roar back to half of what it would have been when she asked.

Garet simply pointed over to Ivan, who also simply just hefted up a travel sack he was holding, and shook it.

The boy spoke out and said, "We had a bit of bad luck with the store owner, and it took some time to sort out the prices. Sorry about that."

Garet just grunted, "Waste of money, if you ask me. We were right in that whole event, even Isaac said so."

He had unknowingly struck a hairline trigger in Jenna's mind, and her eyes went wide. Terror shook her and her mind started racing, searching for an answer that she could not obtain without further inquiry. She took a few deep breaths, and then realized that Ivan was staring at her.

He said gently, "He does not know a thing Jenna. I wouldn't worry. We're still safe."

Sheba watched as Jenna gave a sigh of relief, and instantly her womanly senses kicked into overdrive. Once again, it was clear to her how Jenna felt about Isaac, even if it was quite possibly unbeknownst to Jenna herself. She hated how she would most definitely miss the moment when she, as well as Isaac probably, would come to know about one another's feelings. _But then again_, she thought, _I can still get the story from Felix._

Him too, she would miss. It was funny, how young they both were, yet how much they felt, and how much they both knew. It only started as an intense situation, with them both falling from the lighthouse at the same time, with him saving her very life. But it blossomed from that into a full-fledged emotional flower. It was an agonizingly slow and steady turnabout, but when they both came to know how they each felt, it just snapped in place like two halves to one great puzzle. Age, height, strength, personality, none of it mattered. There were no taboos to be had, no restrictions, they just loved.

And now, for at least a little while, that love would be strengthened as she left to see her foster family. She both didn't and did want to leave, and in the end, compromised with herself as well as Felix that she would only be gone for a little while. She just wanted to see them again, to tell them everything, about all their travels and everyone she had met, and even about her greatest love. It would be strenuous, a rigorous test in disguise, but she knew, they both knew, that they could endure.

With that, her mind convinced and her heart content for the moment, it was now or never. She spoke up to say, "So, is that it? Are we ready to head out, Ivan? I'm a bit anxious to head out, actually." It wasn't that she was anxious, so much as, if she did not leave then, she was afraid she may never be able to.

With a short pause from Ivan, which was noticed to be way more pronounced than it should have been by Sheba, he gave a nod. That led to a series of short, almost curt good-byes, giving the entire event a hurried, almost unimportant feeling. It actually made the normal emotions associated with farewells into an unwanted fiasco to their current owners. The two Mars knew the two Jupiters were not trying to deplore what the situation was, yet they also found no real evidence that they weren't in the first place. Had unspoken knowledge not filled the four in which this occurred, two would have felt insulted, and two more would have felt nothing but ignorance.

As their two youngest companions turned to leave the town Jenna frowned, and waited until they were out of earshot to say, "I think… that they had no real intention of leaving. They've been here awhile, yes, but I don't think saying goodbye and taking off for Kalay and wherever else actually had a profound impact on them until now."

Garet, being quite unlike his normal boisterous self, was rather quiet. He let the time pass for what seemed to Jenna to be a long time, as he watched the two slowly walk away from Vault. Neither looked back, as far as he could he see. But in the back of his mind, he knew their own minds were doing exactly what neither permitted their eyes to commit. This unusual stint of knowledge caused his mouth to form into what Jenna swore was a wry smile.

When she was about to question him, he spoke, intelligently. "Neither of them are leaving, at all. I think they are just looking at this as a very extended vacation." He paused, briefly, then sighed and started again before Jenna could interrupt. "No, they're not leaving at all. They'll be back, you can count on that."

And then he turned, and left, his tunic appearing to have soaked up the entirety of his sweat, down to its exterior leather layers. It was simple, brash, masculine, and completed Garet.

Jenna smiled, the now apparently minor annoyance of heat leaving, and the brief recognition of his intelligence, however rare, entering her. Yes, she believed, he was like Isaac when the situation called for it, as Isaac was in the same manner when required. That was why they were best friends, and there were no doubts in her mind about it.

Her friends would be back eventually, they all would, and Isaac would understand and be happy. It would be nice, like a family reunion of sorts, and they would be happy. It was a cheerful dream, a picture painted deeply in her mind, but she enjoyed it none the less.

When she turned and walked back into the town, she thought to go into the inn and relax far from the sun, and talk with Isaac about everything, so he would understand like she knew he would, and bring that picture a bit closer to reality.

XXX

Isaac was by no means a quitter. He had conquered hordes of beasts, solved puzzles of the ancients, toppled vicious dragons, scaled lighthouses of outstanding technology, protected every companion he made, withheld his honor with the Gods, blazed mental trauma aside, and resisted temperatures of both extremes. If anything, he was one to propel through a challenge rather than quit at an impenetrable wall and mope.

And then, by a shear stroke of genius, he realized that this, his seemingly endless search for food and relief from heat, was almost stupidly pointless.

With that, he promptly walked over to the nearest food vendor, ignoring both price and display, and asked for what he deemed to be readily edible fruits. Nutrition and taste had stopped mattering, and he had taken the entire situation into his own hands. If he was going to be forced to not eat in some sort of restaurant establishment in the early afternoon, then he was by Gods going to eat some sort of damned fruit product, no matter the cost.

To his surprise, his luck had not bit him in the rear-end like it had the tendency to do. No, instead, the two apples he purchased were more than satisfactory, being both juicy and cold, as well as settling the grumbling pangs in his stomach. Beyond that, it was a relief that even the supreme heat could not scorch out of existence. For a brief moment, Isaac found himself contemplating tears of joy, and then immediately figured that doing so in a public place would ruin the cheerful moment, rather than benefit it.

So how Isaac found himself walking around the northern walls of Vault, he could not say. After his much needed bout of nourishment, he found himself wanting to go on a walk. It was an awkward thought, much to his dismay. But he pressed on with it anyways, ignoring both the sweat on his back and the glare in his eyes. He had seen and felt worse, and knew he had no right to complain. Even still, he knew he wanted to get a better understanding of how Vault had changed over the past year or so, and in doing so suspected that knowing at least the bare outlook of his new home would be helpful.

As he walked, he realized that although his intentions were to attempt to make a mental image, or map of this town, his unconscious mind had a completely different scheme. It preferred, again to Isaac's dismay; that he toil over his night terrors and his new distant, yet bewildering feeling in his heart. It was frustrating, to say the least of it, and utterly preposterous that he could not regain control over his own consciousness, to say the most of it. It was not until a bit later, as he started to approach Vault's North Gate, that this worrisome event was repressed into the back of his mind again and something new took hold.

As he came closer and closer to this point, from ninety feet, to eighty feet… forty feet, thirty feet… The image before him became clear as glass. His companions, four of them, were all by the gate. Of them, three had travel robes and sacks which held, from what he could guess, supplies. If it was not for the shock of things, he would not have noticed a new type of confusion taking refuge in his mind, one that shrieked to him of being left out of something.

The man standing furthest from the gate and facing it, completely clad in various greens and browns, was Felix. His tied back hair was brown, and slacked off to the side as he visibly grabbed his forehead as Isaac walked up, concealing his also brown eyes. Standing a bit closer from him to the gate was an old man, with the grays of age as well as spectacles clinging to him. Isaac recognized him as Kraden. Closer still stood two persons, one wearing a sailor's tunic and slacks, the other donning a dress-like robe, but both contained an assortment of blues. Both had cerulean hair, and while both had it tied back, the woman's was far more stylish. In fact, if not for the obvious gender differences and the male having amber eyes the glowed, Piers and Mia would like inseparable twins.

Isaac gazed from one person to the other a few times over, his mind quickly forming the reason why they were all here, despite it being weary in the first place. And then his grin, which had formed as he realized who they all were, dissipated into what was akin to a rather dry facial expression.

"Hey guys… What are you all, um… up to?" He paused, knowing that saying the next thing would only confirm what he already deduced. "Heading out to home?"

Piers hoisted the knapsack that hung at his side up to and over his shoulder. He beckoned Kraden over as he said, "Sadly, yes. I have much to report to my king, as well as the council in Lemuria. As much as I would rather stay, it's not an option at this moment."

He did not leave Isaac much time for thought as he walked over to him and held out a fist, to which Isaac almost reluctantly pounded. From behind Piers Isaac heard Kraden say, "I'm in the same situation. I have many findings to test and report, and many more theories that need the aid of more alchemy scholars. Regrettable as it is, in my age, my duty has to come before my relaxation."

Briefly, Isaac thought it was the other way around, as old age implied retirement rather than work or "duty".

Piers then said, "I'm going to sail Kraden as close as I can over to Tolbi. The wings are out of the question because I don't have enough psynergy for that."

Isaac gave a nod in understanding, and then looked on as both of them waved and turned to leave. His gaze dropped to their feet afterwards. There was almost no shadow beneath them as they seemingly trudged, and the dust kicked up from their steps drifted lazily, like Isaac himself wanted to, in the wind. He found it a bit painful to watch them leave, even though he did not understand completely one, and the other being a fatherly figure for only a short amount of time. But even despite that, they were his companions, his friends, and for reasons he had trouble discerning, it was still painful.

His rational, weak as it was, was cut short as the healer that now stood beside him spoke. "Isaac, please don't be sad. And don't say that you are not, because it's written all over your face," she broke for a brief moment, not apparently no wanting to speak much more. "I have to go see my home town again, just to help them, and to let them know how everything is."

Isaac turned to her, someone that he did know well and that he really, really did not want to leave. He felt the immature and selfish thought arise, and then smiled because of it.

When Mia saw this, she dropped that bag that she was holding and hugged him, tightly. She said, suffocating a cry, "I promise I'll come back, okay? I really do, I promise. Is that alright? Just don't be sad."

Isaac found that his surprise in the action was short-lived, and he soon fell into the hug with her. It was difficult, with the shear amount of clothing she wore, but he felt the warmth of her through them within the embrace. _Even in this heat, she still wears more than I can even dare wearing…_

"Yeah, yeah Mia, that's alright," he said to her softly. "Just remember that I'm holding you to that."

It was a mild joke in the grand scheme of things, but it still caused the young woman in blue to smile. She picked up gracefully her carrying bag, which was filled with what Isaac could see to be an assortment of herbs that they had passed by on their travels. They were most likely for medicinal purposes, but Isaac had to wonder aloud at the thought.

"What's all that for?"

Mia stopped and stared at her bag for a moment before answering. "This? It's all for this greenhouse I'm thinking about making. If I set one up there in Imil, even the cold won't stop these plants from growing. And with all the medicine that can be made from these… if I teach the people how to grow them and grind them into the right amounts, they may not need me there as much anymore… if at all."

They found each other smiling at the small hint she gave about her true intentions of leaving, albeit an obvious one. Following that, Mia waved and said farewell to both sons of Venus, before she too turned and left for the road out of Vault.

Isaac felt her disappear quicker from sight than Piers and Kraden did, and then he completely noticed the full presence of Felix beside him. He had no reasons as to why, but somehow his very being around him made the one question he honestly wanted to know come bubbling to the surface of his mind.

"Why didn't anybody tell me they were leaving?" The words came out sour to a point, and Felix knew that although it was aimed at no one directly, he was the real target. He stepped forward a bit with a somewhat respectable edge, and rested his hand on Isaac's shoulder.

"You make yourself worry too much, that's why. You would have spent the few days leading up to this point running in circles if it was not done like this, and you know that it's true. It's amazing that you have not burned stress ulcers in your stomach yet."

"But this is different from other situations, I would have wanted to say goodbye instead. And Mia has healed 'those' for me already." The unwanted bit of knowledge caused Felix to grimace and his hand to quiver.

Quickly he regained his reserved tranquility, and said, "So then say your goodbyes now. Ivan and Sheba have already left through the Southern exit. If you wish to say farewell and wish them a safe trip, then do so. Just because they cannot hear you doesn't make the gesture any less meaningful. You still care for them, all of them, and they know that. Just as they care for you as well."

As Felix turned to leave, he said to Isaac, "By the way, and I did not tell you this, but it was my sister who came up with this idea. She knows you best, I think better than you do, so I would not take her judgment lightly."

Isaac found himself giving off a wry, yet happy smile as the other adept was walking away from him, seemingly no longer interested in explaining. "Yeah, I understand. More than you think, so take your own advice and don't worry!" He could not see from behind him, but Isaac felt Felix give off a grin as a he raised his hand in the air lazily, the showing that he heard the comment.

Although it was only still early afternoon, Isaac felt that the day had already gone on for much longer than that. Between the heat, the once unquenched hunger, and now half of his friends leaving for what he hoped to not be a long period of time, his mind felt strained. And then, as if, by a stroke of genius, he realized that he did not need to travel around any more. He could map out Vault the next day, and the same with searching for a job.

He did not need to do anything just then; he needed to only go back to the inn. He was sure the inn there was ventilated in such a way that there was some sort of cool breeze, and he was going to use that to his advantage.

It was no wonder that he so suddenly from there huffed back to the inn, all his troubles temporarily wiped from his mind.

XXX

The gray-aged man with his young yet mystically old escort had trekked through the forest for most of the day. Their journey had started out relatively rough, with the unbearable temperature being relentless, and the dirt path they followed had no semblance of shade anywhere in sight. Truly, it was an exquisite failure in terms of comfort, yet they still proved somewhat resilient. Of course, the snowy mist that was occasionally dispersed by the Lemurian Mercury adept was greatly appreciated all the same.

Things became much more accommodating by late afternoon, mainly due to the large, covered forest they came up too. This vast area of plant-life, spotted with trees, shrubs, and all manner of woodland fauna, was what stood between them and the Angaran shoreline where their vessel was anchored. The fact that it also accomplished their small time goal of getting away from the sun was not thought of by either of them, but none the less taken in gratefully. It was in this forest where they now stood, in the midst of a small yet homely clearing, the twilight in the sky giving off an assortment of orangey hues.

Through experience, they went through rather swiftly the list for a makeshift campsite. They each had their own sleeping mats, crunched tightly into spiraled rolls when not in use. Those were laid out first, perpendicular to one another. Inside the "V" shape betwixt the two, a small fire was started via predisposed matches. The twigs and brush gathered to start it were small and not meant to last for a long while, just to get the fire going.

It was while Kraden was gathering about the materials and ingredients to make a simple, somewhat nutritious soup that he made a common statement, well known to the ears of the other, "I'll keep the first shift for the watch."

Monsters were very widespread in the forest, and the two travelers found themselves to be incredibly lucky so far in their journey to have not encountered any yet. It was awkward, but no less warranted great relief. Either way though, neither felt the need to relax and loosen their guard, for fear one would be made a snack in the middle of their sleep.

Piers said back to the old man, "You won't be. I had the idea of setting up an igloo shelter with my psynergy tonight, with no opening except for the very top for ventilation. It will be tall enough to frustrate any attackers, as well as sturdy enough, and it will be very warm inside."

Intrigued, Kraden asked, "The sounds great. But, if it's warm inside, won't it surely melt?"

The commander just shook his head, stating, "Ice made from psynergy has a much higher freezing point. It will last the night easily, and should anything come up to us, the ruckus it will make trying to get in will most likely wake us." He paused, feeling like he had forgotten something, and then remembered it. "I'm going to grab some more substantial logs for the fire, to keep it going for an hour or two, you're alright with cooking?"

Kraden nodded, his spectacles reflecting the glow of the fire off in multiple directions. With that, Piers nodded back, and disappeared into the forest for what Kraden assumed was going to be a short duration.

Now to make the soup was a fairly mundane task for the old man. Using the small amount of vegetables they took with them from Vault, along with water from a sack, it was sizzling very nicely. It gave off a nice smell, enough to satisfy his hunger craving, but not enough to sate his urge for something tastier than cardboard. He took out some spices that he bought on his way through the town, and added them to the mixture as well. It was not much, but the combination would at least be passable now.

Kraden stared at the soup, vaguely noting the steam that simmered from it, fizzling into the air as nothingness. It truly was a dull task, albeit a necessary one. For once, he kept his mind clear, at rest, thinking of utterly nothing. He found it was surprisingly easy to accomplish such a task, and also found it equally relaxing.

It was the sound of rustling in the forest behind him, of course, that brought him out of this self-induced bliss. He listened, intently, knowing Piers did not enter the forest in that direction, and he heard the sound of moving flora again. And the forest continued to make sound, boldly, enough to send the scholar into a very attentive state. Whatever was coming, it was not small.

As he turned to face the forest, him completely on his feet now, he saw a sight he never would have cared to witness again.

A man, with crimson for hair and blood-red for clothing, covered in metal guards of all sorts, emerged strongly and directly in front of him. His sight, his posture, his grin, all sent Kraden into a nostalgia brimming with anger. The ire was not misplaced either, and Kraden recalled quickly his last few moments with the man many years before, at least ten. Again, he found the sight, and the man's megalomaniac eyes, very unpleasant.

And then, as if from a dream, or some terrible nightmare, the man spoke in a deep, formal, yet strangely psychotic tone, "Hello, teacher." The grin, the slightly enlarged canines they flaunted, was horror inducing in and of itself, but the voice made the full picture that much more dreadful. It was malice he sported, austere in all manners.

Standing rigid, his hands fidgeting behind the defense of his outer cloak, Kraden spoke in a similar manner. "Hello, my dear Lance."

The cackle that came at the sound of his name penetrated the old man with a chill. Lance, his former apprentice, his student, started pacing. His mind was severely stressed, as all the boundaries he owned, however non-existent they were before, that forbid the extremes from his sanity, were completely gone. Now, it seemed, everything about him was extreme, right down to the thoughts that flowed through his sight and face at every turn. The glimmer in his eyes, the malevolence of his stance, was all the proof the scholar needed.

"It was 'dear', you said, was it not? Your sarcasm precedes the level you've lowered yourself to just to conduct this research. I trust my hypothesis, my life, my 'ranting and ravings', and my _prophecy_, were all correct were they not?"

Lunacy stemmed from another cackle as the last word left his mouth with a crack. Kraden did not look away nor looked particularly afraid, and instead kept severe coolness to his voice. He's eyes landed on Lance's quivering fingers, eager for his expansive wealth of knowledge.

"Down to the last word, unfortunately. It would have been better for you to have been wrong when you were exiled from the palace and Tolbi altogether. But even then, I knew that when I decided to test your ravings for myself, that if they were true, this day would come. So your thirst for the very essence that binds this universe is still not sated?"

"But of course, it never has, because I have yet to gain the means to drink that ultimate gift. That was until you, and your unknowing subordinates did my job for me. Truly, I must thank them personally some day."

Kraden made no comment, choosing not to feed into Lance's bait. He would wait him out if needed, because he knew how this meeting would end long before he set out his unsaid, true quest.

Lance spoke again, the grandeur in his voice never receding. "The Seal of the Gods Kraden, I told you that it existed. I stated how to get there, and what all the pre-existing terms were. I know exactly where it is held, and now that the beacons of the great elements that serve as the strength of Weyard are lit, the path to the cosmos above is clear. And I am certain, very much so, that your journey yielded the fruits of my knowledge, and knows where the keys are to that gate."

Kraden sighed, his previous wisdom in the manner no longer caring, as did he himself. "All my observations were correct. I know how to activate the gate, and I know where to get the keys to do so. Once again, sadly, had it not been for your knowledge, this would have passed me by and would have never been heard of. And, you're in luck, much to my dismay. I'm carrying all of my notes on me."

Another screech of laughter belted from Lance's lungs, and his form visibly quivered in anticipation. "You talk as if you're going to die! Well, you were going to by my hand anyways, but you act as if you knew it all along!"

The old man pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, for what was unknown to him, the last time ever. "When I was ordered by Lord Babi to conduct my research on alchemy, I knew that as I also tested your 'prophecy', that the entire ordeal would be my end. I served my purpose, and I brought the knowledge that humanity needed to life. I'll leave the rest to those that I used, now to my regret," he paused, considering his words for the last time. "They will be the end of you Lance. Your power-lust and your overconfidence will fail you, and you will fall."

Kraden grimaced at what he saw, but accepted his fate as a pawn in destiny.

Lance smirked, it growing from ear to ear. The eyes beneath the threads of his hair shimmered, and the pupils dilated, his intent to kill flowing off in waves. From behind him, he pulled out his halberd, its length longer than he himself. With great show, he spread it out, and then pointed it at the old man, his old instructor, mentor. And then, in the blink of an eye, with a short breath, he charged straight ahead, and the weapon's tip rammed through Kraden's neck and tasted blood from all sides.

The kill was quick, instant, and painless, much to the man's disappointment. It was messy as well, the blood splattering across his face, and for once, he had to regain the reigns over his sanity. Now was not the time to lose control, as although his vengeance was completed in a way he did not want, which was quarantined off from the rest of the old man's body, the blood could still reach the valuable documents that he held. It was not a time to give in.

He yanked the speared tip, now dyed crimson, from the old man's neck, and then laid him on the ground roughly. Following this, he made flames in his hand, and engulfed the entire tip of his weapon, burning the remaining essence of his teacher's life away from him completely. And then he let off a smile, the most mature and sane one he had given off in awhile, embracing his tragic fate of being born a Mars Adept in an uncaring atmosphere. Then he noticed the memories of old resurfacing, and buried them instantly, no longer wanting any part of them. As it was not time to be insane, it was also not time to be enthralled in the cause of that insanity, and that was his memories.

Placing the weapon back into its welcoming holster on his back, he knelt over the old man and began rummaging through his robes. Surely what his mentor said he held, those needed documents, they must have been somewhere on him…

And indeed they were, tucked snugly beneath his inner robe, where it was still very much warm. He pulled them free and examined them, thoroughly, not wanting to let a single one miss his photographic memory. As he stared at each one, in order, he painted a clear picture in his mind. The clearer it became, the more his hysteric grin resurfaced, until he was in a full-blown giggle.

"The old fool did it!" He barked with laughter. "He actually did it! All these notes… he somehow figured out how to get the keys just by mere glances at their would be containers… B-Brilliant!" Again, Lance cackled. "The orbs… those damned beacons themselves hold them. Their essence… that's the solution! Just one Adept of that corresponding element, or its allied familiar element, and one can easily snatch it free. It's so straightforward, so faultless!"

He dropped the papers on the corpse before him in a heap, their purpose fulfilled. He bore his teeth wildly, wondering briefly how he managed to get this far with such a dual personality. And then, he no longer cared. Lance needed allies, quick, and he already had recruits in mind. _My brother; and that girl… They're both easy to get, for inside they both desire the same thing, even if unknowingly. _

_The Seal… That incredible Seal of the Gods… it will be mine!_

Lance turned to the camp fire, and sucked all the flames from it and cradled them around his right arm, watching the swirls of orange and scarlet with lust. Again he found his tragic affinity for Hell's flames becoming of him, and their allure caused his lips to curl inward towards a manic smile. And then, as their rogue heat was his plaything, he cast them to all the foliage around the clearing, setting them all ablaze. He cared not if Kraden burned, the notes, nothing; he did not need them and already forgotten about them. All that was left was the passionate flames and the quest he would champion himself.

He firmly believed, as he danced and dispersed into the fires and night, that nothing on Weyard would stop his mad trip to his ultimate goal.

XXX

Piers found himself racing back towards their make-shift campsite, the flames ahead only urging him forward. The firewood he had been gathering had been dropped and left behind the second those lights rose over the edge of the forest. Swiftly in both hands, he readied his powers of Mercury, the created water already surging around both of his arms.

As he jumped into the clearing, spraying his water at any flames, he realized two daunting things. The first was that the flames were not natural, and created just has his water was, through Psynergy. The second, and by far the worst, was that the old alchemist, his friend and mentor, Kraden, was dead with sketches and notes frayed all about him. He was not burning though.

The flames went out with much difficulty, and quickly Piers ran to Kraden to see if there was a chance to save him, some glimmer of life. But as he knelt over him, he realized without checking that he was gone, his eyes staring into an unknown distance a more than obvious indicator. He closed them, gently, and started to absent-mindedly examine the papers around him.

He found the gasp of surprise he made unnerving, yet in comparison to the notes themselves there was no contest. The scholar had stumbled onto something bigger than himself, bigger than anything Piers ever knew in his long life. It was the key to a tragedy that was the cause of Alchemy being sealed in the first place, and the forming of the four great elemental cities. This man, this mere non-adept, had found out the one major secret that was a forbidden part of history for ages.

_This couldn't have been a quest for knowledge; he would have needed pre-existing sources. This… this is way beyond me._ Piers gathered up all the notes quickly and stuffed them into his knapsack. He could not afford to delay, not in the slightest. The one who slew Kraden must have already known about all of this, and used the man to his advantage. There was never a time before in his life where Piers felt more urgency.

The conflict in his mind between his grief over his companion's death and the urgency of this new development crashed into a stalemate, until Piers ended it by roughly digging out a hole in the ground with his control over ice. He carried the body over to the grave, wishing in the quick prayer he gave that Kraden would forgive him for his hastiness, and then buried him over with cold dirt.

And then he turned towards the shore, the amount of miles daunting, but no less necessary to trek. His life became secondary to him, right down to any emotions he felt. His self-imposed mission took control of his mind, and he became mechanical in all his thoughts and movements. He needed to go to Lemuria, he needed to take action, he needed to get help. Weyard was in total danger, and not just that, the entire cosmos.

The secret of the Seal was leaked, and suddenly, thousands of years worth of hiding instantly became days of rushing. Time, the bastard, was unreliable in being a guardian in that aspect any longer. It fell to men, and now specifically, to him, to take command and somehow find the aid to end this.

King Hydros in Lemuria would surely think of something that he overlooked, and in his current state, that could amount to anything…

* * *

Well, there's chapter one. As naturally, I enjoy reviews greatly, and they're about the only thing that will keep me writing (college campus living plus double major equals hell on wheels).


	2. Brothers and a Minion are Useful

AN: So Yeah. This took awhile to complete. And I had started this chapter before the first one was post sooooo... the next one will be awhile from now. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that was already in the official Golden Sun universe.

* * *

Chapter 2: Brothers and a Minion are Useful.

Days, hours, minutes, seconds, they all amounted to nothing in the space around him. The conception and premise of humans, that basic ideal. The ideology that bound together dates and age, history and future, all that was completely perceived at the will of the user. That is the gift and the curse that is time. For the sake of order, being raised by it also gave way to the sake of absolute eternity, where nothing was the ultimate in terms of law and order.

It was this nothing that Alex found himself in. Faint, dim, non-existent as he was, he laid in time, unaware of anything but eternity. His eternity; and his pain.

He found himself despairingly plastered to the ground beneath him, the soil decorated with the debris of mountain and sacred temple. An assortment of mountain that crumbled unwillingly at his feet, and the shrine that sucked both it and himself in, that was his current surrounding, his home, his fate.

The temperature was cool, being solemn in its view on the situation. The power that this man thought was his, that he spent years to obtain, devoted his life to, had it ripped out of his hands grudgingly by an ungrateful god. The pain, the irony, they morphed into the same feeling for Alex, and he no longer knew one from the other.

His own feelings dulled into numbness as well, forgetting their nerves, losing their connections, and gave way into nothing. He knew his clothes were tattered beyond repair, judging from the awkward tugging the stressed leather and cloth made against him. He knew the two gladii he kept hidden under his hair on his back were no longer there, but rather a few feet away from him. One gladius found itself just within his reach. He also knew his body should be battered, scratched, bloodied, and overall disfigured and dismembered to the point of no return, yet it was not.

Alex found his situation in the end bemusing. Up above him, a large hole cratered its way into the temple where he and part of the mountain fell through. The shattered pillars and large boulders seemed to raise their fictitious hands towards its opening, where the sun, his sun, seemed to mockingly shine through. The rays danced wildly about his figure, prompting him, enticing him, teasing him. So close, that power that the adepts of ancient times made gospels about, so close was that power to him. So close, and yet, so easily ripped from his hands.

He knew he had caused no actual wrong in his quest. At least none that he himself could see as wrong. The mischievous manipulating of the Proxians may have been a tad questionable, but nothing overtly sinful. So the matter was, either he did something invisibly evil that brought him out of favor, The Wise One is no deity at all and just a self-righteous bastard rock from hell, or... Alex was unworthy of the supreme power that was the sun.

It was unknown to Alex, who had spent the last month cultivating his injured pride and mind, which was more enraging. Whether it was because he had the power ripped from him, or if it was because he was unworthy. The latter, he deemed impossible. He felt different, readily so. His thought process was different, more calm, poised, clarified. But he had yet to tell if that was from some aftereffect of having the rays of the all-powerful sun shine on him, or due to severe mental injury he took.

But because he was feeling different, no matter what the actual reason was, he pressed himself to believe that it was because he was, in fact, eligible to receive the sun. He had it in the palm of his hand, and then had it ripped from that same palm. His power, so palpable so as to touch, shredded away from his grip like meat off the bone. Violent, sluggish, clumsy, painful, that was how Weyard's beloved so-called 'Wise One' treated him.

It was infuriating. So much so that Alex found himself standing up rigidly, his gladius forgotten on the forlorn, shattered floor. He had that power, he owned it, he commanded it! It was his, it was always his, it was he who worked so hard to get it! The countless days, constant planning, all meticulously done, and now all for nothing. The Sun, that magnificent and beautiful vessel of power and intelligence was right inside him. So close to his heart... and now never before being further.

Alex felt his eyes squint up from pressure and his teeth grind in frustration, his entire body feeling the opposite of broken, and in fact bottling up a shaky, hidden rage. Vehemently, all muscles flexed into a full roar, Alex yelled, "It was mine! IT WAS MINE!!!"

The rage, Alex found completely foreign, unbecoming of him and instantly, he felt disgusted by his anger, and wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. A growing power that raced down the length of his arms was the silent answer to his call. All at once, the quivering of his whole body focused in his hands. And as they shook rapidly, Alex grinned at the cerulean, psynergenic glow they emitted. His power was his, even if muted, he still tasted the source greedily for a brief moment, and still gained part of his sun.

He raised his arms to the opening above him, and the orb of psynergy blasted from his hands to its destination. As it approached drastic speeds, the power of Mercury constricted itself into something invisible just a few meters from the exit, before expanding swiftly, the force of the explosion showering the entire crevice with snow. What took a month of passion and cultivating finally burst forth, and now covered much of crater, and Alex assumed much of the outside as well.

The sight was outstanding to behold, as the temperature around him dropped to the frozen temperatures of a home locked deep in his memories. From corner to shadowy crook in the shattered remains of the temple, snow found itself blanketing. The snow itself was crystalline, serene even, as it sparkled in icy delight, its perfection a testament to the new power Alex had just managed to tap into. This caused him to smile, self-realization becoming ripe in his mind.

"Impressive, very impressive! Can't really say I'd have done much better... eh, Alex?"

The voice cracked whatever picture had formed in Alex's mind, and he found himself disturbed by its unwanted presence. He quickly retrieved one of his gladii from its snowy cover and turned around in a fighting stance, wary of whatever it was that was behind him. He wasn't prepared though, for the man with flaming red hair before him.

The man spoke before Alex could question him. "You'll need this, boy," he said gruffly. The man tossed another gladius to Alex, which he easily caught in his offhand.

Alex's stance loosened slightly, but he was still tense from the man before him. The psynergy around him was thick, and combined with the ghostly presence of the halberd in his hand left the Mercury adept with a bad taste in the back of his mouth. Curiosity besting control of all other forces in his mind, Alex spoke.

"Who are you? How in the world did you manage to get in here?"

Something else irked Alex about the man, be it his toothy grin or the slight glimmer of fleeting sanity in his eyes, he couldn't quite say for sure. The man spoke readily all the same though. "Hmm...? Is that really how far you've drifted all these years Alex? Is this how much our old home, that dirty old squalor-filled village blocked out your memory? You don't even remember my name? I'm hurt...," he put a hand to his heart as his head dropped, and Alex could not tell if it was a mock emotion or not. That was, until the man looked at him again with a vicious stare and finished his sentence, "...little brother."

The phrase was alien in Alex's mind for all of a few moments, before realization completely set in. In shocking waves, memories once blotted out forever surged back into his mind. Visions of a boy, branded an outcast as a child. His parents scorning him, the council condemning him, hearsay of a dark, brooding prophecy. The child ran and cursed the town, foreshadowing events to come. And then he himself chasing after him, his only older brother, the one he looked up to, only to fail and collapse in vast, wintery wastelands of the North. The pain, the hurt, the vow to forget all of this rushed back to his mind swiftly, and in turn, he felt his body physically weaken as the last, most important memory rushed back to him: a name.

He breathily gasped, "Lance...!"

The fire in Lance's eyes didn't diminish at all, but instead intensified as a smile slithered across his face. "Well, I suppose they didn't do too much to you if you can remember that much. You're correct little brother, I'm your forsaken brother."

Alex found himself on one knee, while one of his hands pressed the pommel of his gladius to his head in pain. The resurgence of memories, haunting ones, caused him much pain in this current situation. To stand, and now to kneel, in the presence of his older brother was surreal, and completely unexpected. He found that he had no real idea on what to do, other than just to listen. His sense of poise, however damaged it was in this scenario, still allowed him that much dignity.

Lance took this moment to continue speaking, "As for your second question, the one wondering how I knew where you were. Well, I've known for the longest time, you see. Tracking you and the little pawns you used was very easy. And I knew where you'd wind up, seeing as all your hard work, your research, pointed towards Mt. Aleph once all four elemental beacons were lit."

Again, Alex found his body performing actions he did not command as he slowly, shakily, stood back to his feet. "How did you know about my goal for the sun?" he inquired.

"I, shall we say, keep tabs on points of personal interest. Though I must admit," the glimmer in Lance's eyes flashed, his sanity erased for a moment. "It was such a damn shame to watch some bastardized God slap you to the ground and take the sun from you, the very thing you wanted most! I would have helped, but, you know, it was just far too amusing!"

He erupted in a cackle that provoked an ire in Alex that he had only just gotten over moments before. To be mocked by one he once looked up to... Alex made a move to charge wildly, his poise lost for a second time this day. He stopped though, upon looking down the shaft of Lance's fearsome halberd.

Sanity once again regained, Lance spoke curtly, commanding authority, "Careful Alex, just because you gained a portion of your precious sun doesn't mean you gained all of it. In fact, of the little bit you did gain, it's only a bit awakened. My God, let's just hope it doesn't take much more than reaction like this to awaken it inside of you, too. I don't think I can make you much more pissed than you just were."

Alex begged off, finding it amazing how someone with no source of power such as the one he held managed to easily threaten him, and then back it up. 'Astonishing' would be the word to use, he presumed. Now if only he could somehow _suck_ the power from his older brother's grasp... now that would be useful. Being weak was the last thing he felt, and the last thing that he planned on feeling, so why not find a way to steal it off his brother? Provided he wasn't planning on killing him now, that course of action seemed bountiful, plentiful, absolutely endearing, something he found himself wanting to devour. Alex found himself hoping he could follow his older brother around as he lay in wait for that chance.

He also found himself completely out of check with his emotions, and immediately cut them out of his mind.

Whether Lance noticed or did not notice this cynical exchange going on in Alex's mind, he made no motion of it. Hoping for the best, Alex chose to believe he missed the event completely, and instead asked a question. "You said I gained only a portion of the sun. Why?"

Pulling his halberd back, he rested the pommel on the snow-covered ground and the blade hap-hazard against his shoulder. Lance cocked an eyebrow, contemplating what to say, and at the same time holding his sanity in check by the fringes of its existence.

Alex saw a twinkle, then another, in his brother's eyes before he spoke, "Now that, I'm not entirely sure. If you had the entire sun, we'd know, easily, that's for sure. I would avoid you right now, readily even." He paused, his powerful yet torn mind thinking some more, and said, "One thing is for sure, the sun is here on Weyard. Somewhere, and if I had to bet, probably in someone. In fact... that bastard for a 'Wise One' accused you of being unworthy of the Sun's power and glory, correct?"

The older brother saw the younger one nod, and also saw the flick of rage he suppressed instantly during the action. If not for his now supreme grip over his mind, his sanity would have fled at the sight. Lance snorted, then sighed.

"If I had to make some sort of a guess, I would assume that means that preaching eye passed most of the power, whatever you didn't gain for yourself, into someone else. I don't know who, I don't really care either. It doesn't matter, for we probably won't meet that person."

Alex didn't listen to the rest of what his brother was saying, and instead focused on regaining his composure. Anger, anger and rage, it boiled deep in the recesses of his mind... No, not either of those, it was hatred, pure and passionate as any other, yet unfocused. He had to focus it to calm himself, but it was so widespread in this form. So palpable, he had to focus it, focus on something...

And then it came to him, the exact item of his hate. The Wise One was his target! That made his life easier, just hate the bastard God. Surely, the constant jabs he has received from it over the past month more than make up for such a simmering ire, and what better to hate than the object of that rage! The simplest choice there in his mind, and from there, he made the most important vow he ever had to in his life.

_I'm going to find you, I'm going to mutilate you, I'm going to obliterate you... I promise, you will suffer, one way or another, through my being._

Lance slammed the bottom of his weapon on the ground, causing a loud clang, and in essence, another way to stifle his insanity. He looked at the Mercury Adept before him, and then spoke through cut eyes, "I would listen if I was you. If you can't already tell... _I'm crazy_."

The last two words dripped of a malice Alex could not quite place, and so, he found that listening to Alex after that was a rather easy thing to do, for now.

Lance smirked, releasing his violent demeanor, and said, "As I was going to say, I suppose you want to know why I came here, now, of all things." It wasn't a question, but Alex nodded all the same.

Continuing, Lance said, "Well, good, that shows you're curious at least. So tell me... what do you know of... The Seal of the Gods?"

Alex had heard that name before, he was sure if it. But where, that was the real question. Somehow, he remembered chambers hidden deep beneath the sanctums of Imil, where scrolls and texts of history lay that would rival even those of the great Elemental cities. In one of those scrolls, he was sure of it now, there was that name his brother just said, The Seal of the Gods. What he just couldn't remember though, was what it was for. That eluded him completely.

Speaking cautiously, Alex said, "The name I remember. I'm sure I saw it in a scroll along the many others I've read in my time of research. But I only took it as far as a grain of salt, because to me it seemed like an impossible legend. One of those legends they told to little children before they slept for the night."

Alex watched as a vein bulged and then passively disappear over Lance's right temple before he spoke, "It's more than a mere myth, brother. It's not even a dream, my dream to own yes, but just so much more. It's exactly what I spoke before I was banished, it was all I've dreamt of since. It's the power that binds this world, and the power I'm destined to hold. It's pure power in its finest, and makes the sun pale in comparison."

Intrigued, yet somehow horrified at Lance's continual bouts of giggling over the topic, Alex continued to listen. "It's more power than you could ever imagine, brother! And the best part about the whole thing is that I know exactly where it is-" he licked his lips deliciously "-and how to get it. And what I'm proposing to you, brother, is to join me in this hunt for power."

Vaguely, Alex noticed that it wasn't so much of a request as more of a command, one that was completely not in his favor if he refused. But still, he found he had to ask an all-important question before just blindly following Lance like some dumb, blind zealot. "What's in it for me? If you gain power and I gain nothing, I see no reason for this journey in the slightest."

He watched as Lance grinned, his canines somewhat larger than how he originally saw them. "You hunted and schemed for the sun to gain power, yes?" Receiving a curt nod, he said, "And you can tell that I am hunting the seal for power as well, yes?" Obtaining the same reaction, he smiled, and said, "We're brothers. So, let us then rule this world together. I can tell, it's far better than us having some immortal battle for the entire world after I gain the seal."

Alex noticed in a somewhat dulled sense that Lance making a very grave threat against his life.

Lance then grinned some more, and said, "I'll even help you find the fool who has the rest of your sun, and we can kill him and get you the rest of your power. It will be perfect... are you in?"

Somehow, Alex did not bother to keep the sadistic gleam from his eyes at the promise of killing the "rightful" owner of his power, and taking if back for himself. That, and the further promises of maybe stealing everything out from under his older brother, who was clearly no longer fit for any sort of ruling, was also endearing, not that he would ever mention it. Surely, the journey would be rough, more so from the yet unforeseen antics of his brother than of the trip itself, but he could handle that. He dealt with Proxians, and somehow manipulated them, nothing adds up to torture like that in the mind. The ease of gaining power and his dreams far outweighed the risk of death in his mind, and that was something he could live for, effortlessly.

He gave off a brief wave of enthusiasm with his smirk, and asked, "What's the plan, and where too first?"

Lance returned the same emotion and expression, albeit stronger, and said, "First, I need to grab one more recruit, she's somewhere south of us. Don't worry though, she'll have no say in anything after the seal is mine. She's a minion at best, but she'll be a loyal and sadistic one. Very useful. You'll enjoy her."

Alex ignored the hidden, obvious sexual meaning of that last statement, and said, "Will you tell me the plan on the way?"

Lance nodded deftly, and point up towards the crater, "Let's leave. We have work to do."

Holstering his two gladii back in their hidden holsters on his back, Alex beckoned Lance over. From there, he gathered psynergy into his hands, and slowly urged it out, forming a solid orb around both of them. The orb lifted gently off of the ground and into the air, before speedily rising up through the crater, widening it considerably, and then shooting off to the south.

If one had the ears for it, they would hear an elated, manic cackle as the orb flew by overhead.

* * *

Two of Jupiter's finest walked down the road to Kalay. So far, the trip had fared far better than what either expected when they first left. The extreme heat demonstrated when they left Vault had tapered off over the past few days, albeit they were still heading South and the heat should be there. The boy of the pair did not complain in the slightest, finding it a blessing, while the young woman did not mind either way, heat was her lifestyle.

They hadn't carried much supplies with them as their trip was short. Just the essentials, such as sleeping pads, bread, water sacs, special healing herbs, and of course, their weapons. Anything else required could easily be hunted for or foraged from the wilderness that surrounded them. It wasn't difficult, not for them: they had done this easily enough for a full year.

The trip itself had been nostalgic so far, despite the clear lack of many other companions. But that did not bother them, as neither of them knew each other very well in the first place. Sure, they had journeyed far together, fought together, and ultimately helped save the world together. But in the few short months that their groups were together after they joined forces, too much had happened too fast for them to actually forge a strong friendship. In fact, as far as they really got in terms of knowing each other was their basic personalities, where they were from, and that they were both the same age of sixteen and were an adept of the same element.

It was not much to go on, they both decided, and from there promptly decided that they'd use this trip to get to know each other. Sheba, the female of the two, had spoke of her heritage, of Faran and Lalivero, and all other things of the desert and her past life. She told him of the legacy that surrounded her as she grew up, how she was a "Child of the Gods" because she supposedly fell from the sky as a baby. It was fascinating for Ivan, the male of the duo, who was never one to back down from knowledge presented right to face. She even knew the easiest ways to find water, in the strangest of places too. Ivan was surprised to learn just how small a watering hole could be, and that there were far more of them in a desert than what he had once assumed. Quickly he pocketed the knowledge, hoping one day it would become useful to him.

As for Ivan, he told her all about how he originally came from the continent of Atteka, before Master Hammet had taken him in along with the Rod of Hesperia on a merchant trip there. He described Kalay as a town bustling with merchants that was an authority on bartering and the economy, and also stated how the town boasted a large, if rather anxious mercenary force to protect their interests. Although he was just a mere servant in the household of Hammet, Sheba could tell that his master took a special interest in his teachings. Ivan knew more about anything and everything than anyone else around. Grant him a piece of history and he'll not only know it, but go into more detail about the situation surrounding the event. It was surreal to the desert-bound girl due to the reason of her own childhood. While she was raised in legends and tales, he was schooled in hard facts and logic. They were polar opposites that somehow bonded readily into a firm friendship.

Normally after traveling a whole day with their deep conversations, they would fashion a makeshift camp just off to the side of the road. No tent was set up, just their two sleeping pads and a small campfire for two an equal distance from both. Normally it was Sheba who cooked, especially since after the first night when Ivan not only caught their meal aflame, but also managed to spread it to the surrounding brushes. Sheba laughed at him later on before sleeping, when he muttered something about "wind", "oxygen", and "fire".

As much as they spoke about themselves during the day, it was at night that they truly shared the wealth of their distinct sets of knowledge. The cloudless sky above them had shown star systems and constellations the likes of which one would never see when trapped in the grasps of civilization. Ivan had studied much about the systems, knowing them by their shape and the stars associated with them. It impressed Sheba greatly, whose own people used mostly the same names and terms as the more "civilized" cultures. But she also took it a step further, and would enlighten him to the legends behind each star system, and how they were created, and the myths each picture they formed held. It was all good fun for them, and if not for the fact that they needed sleep to keep the pace they traveled at during the day, then they would just talk all night and forget about the day completely.

They did not limit themselves to just talking though, at least not in the conventional way of it. Being two Jupiter adepts, they could not help but attempt to compete with one another which one was the better at the "psychic" way of things. They would often both try to read each other's mind and at the same time protect their own from being read as well. Quickly, Sheba realized that Ivan had much more experience at this than she did and found herself more so on the losing end of things. But she never let it deter her spirit, and oftentimes when she knew he was about to enter her mind, she would think of something funny, often making him laugh out loud or blush in embarrassment.

It was never flirty or too hot for him when he blushed, but he just was not used to the content of the jokes, and from a girl nonetheless! Although, from the vestiges left in her mind, whenever he won he slowly pieced together a picture of Sheba's love, and only proved his suspicions. Clearly, most of the risqué jokes were not her own, but rather those spoke to her via whisper from Felix. Often in times of cuddling or just a soft, warm murmur into her neck, but she remembered every single one.

The realization of who gave her these thoughts and images greatly embarrassed Ivan, and for a time he actually needed to stop playing and retreat into his meek way of defense. She had never done anything too serious with Felix, there was never the time, but he felt the emotions she had felt through her mind. It was startling, just how fiercely the two loved, and even more amazing just how easily she could suppress the emotions. Their kisses, their soft but intimate moments, all flew through Ivan's mind at times, and although he had experienced that reading other's minds, never were those images privy to his mind from a friend.

Throughout the discomfiture though, it made Ivan happy, and slightly envious as well. She and Felix were clearly happy, and definitely in love, there was no doubt. In fact, their current journey right now was only strengthening the love Sheba felt for Felix, and to that end, Ivan could only guess. The girl beside him, one who he himself would least expect to find love, had found love first before them all, and with another friend at that. And they had done an outstanding job of keeping everyone in the dark, all with the exception of Ivan. Even still, he would respect their desire to keep things quiet and out of sight.

It came to no surprise after this revelation why Sheba would sometimes want to play a different game with Ivan. The challenge was to talk to each other through the wind, or a better term that Ivan coined, "Whispers in the Wind". At this, Ivan found his niche was nowhere to found, and he failed utterly every single time. Sheba, on the other hand, found doing so with ease, and was even kind enough to teach him the basics, for all the good it would do him. Ivan assumed that Sheba had much time to practice this skill, and deduced that her main target was the object of her affection.

Again, Ivan never once pried into this and instead stayed his wondering mind.

There were times though when Sheba would get incredibly quiet, even during a conversation. She would just drift into her own world, her eyes vanishing into clouds and her movements becoming extremely mechanical, a forced trudge to be exact. At those moments, it would take all the strength Ivan had to resist the temptation to read her mind, for he knew that whatever was ailing her, it was very serious.

Even he had values with respects to someone's privacy, especially a friend's, even though the violations were merely accidents.

He heard her call out in her sleep, her shouting always muffled in her arm or sleeping mat. He never knew why aside from the obvious guess of a nightmare, and he never knew what in the nightmare caused such a reaction, but he knew for sure that it frightened him, and worried him. He wanted to assume that it had to do with Felix, his newfound insight to her secret love giving him evidence to that end, but he could not be sure. It was just mere conjecture on his part, entirely absent of a substantial fact.

Sheba was not oblivious to her state of mind at this time, and knew she was often lost in a fog during parts of the day. She knew she spent a fairly large portion of the trip just going through motions, worrying her very slightly older counterpart to no end. Sheba even knew what reasons Ivan could think up for her daunting situation, that maybe she dreamt of Felix being hurt or worse. But that was a lie, albeit one she planted in Ivan's mind early on, knowing she could trust him to her and her lover's secret.

She wanted to protect him, and did not want to scare him worse than her current actions did. The visions she had were too horrific for that.

One night, Ivan's care and curiosity got the best of him and he asked her gently about what was wrong. She would just smile weakly, and look away, her eyes and face hidden by her slightly longer blond hair, and even further still by the shadows they cast from the flames before her. The answer she gave was always the same, always just as weak-minded, always serving the same purpose of convincing herself. "It's nothing, nothing at all."

But that was a lie. The one she screamed out for every tear-jerking night was not Felix, was not her companions, it was not for her adopting family or anyone else: not one other soul but herself. Somehow, something was coming, she foresaw it every night, yet every night in the depths of her heart she prayed, for she understood that nothing could be done to stop this from happening if it occurred.

It was a terrifying proposition to be alone against a power that was completely overwhelming. She had no strategy, no actual skill to protect herself this, no matter how efficient she was with her mind or her combat prowess. This was unimaginable... And something she had to get through, no matter the cost.

With forces set against her though, her heart was set.

_Even if the prophesy does come true, no matter the odds, even if it does, there's no way I'll let myself become a minion to destroy all that I've come to love. Not a chance in hell._

* * *

It had been near a full week since they had left Vault, and they were now about a full day's walk from Kalay. Unsurprisingly, the day had been scorching as far as Ivan was concerned, and relatively pleasant as far as his female counterpart saw things. Ivan duly noted that it was those sorts of splitting personality differences that could start fights in unbearable situations... that was, if he was just some random thug or ruffian who did not have the mind to use the gray matter betwixt his ears.

The night had a far more pleasurable harmony to it than the day, for both traveling parties. It was still warm, but a cool sort of warm, devoid of humidity. The stickiness of the day was left behind them as they relaxed by their hastily made fire, kept considerably smaller than normal given the circumstances of weather.

They were staring at the night sky before them, painted elaborately with intricate star constellations and the like, but they were no longer naming the systems. There was only so many "Orion" and "Seven Sisters" tales Ivan could hear before his mind swelled, and likewise, before Sheba found herself tiring of orating them. So tonight, they just observed, taking comfort in each other's company and appreciating the view the heaven's gifted unto them.

It was rare, but they were also on the lookout for shooting stars. For whatever the reason, locations around the Kalay latitude and the frozen north and south were famous for numerous shooting stars. Especially after the eruption of Mt. Aleph. Some have theorized that the plentiful violet stones that fell from the sky that day cleared out any gases that would make the comets themselves hazy, but that was completely refuted by others. The winds would only blow more gas into the region, completely refilling it with whatever airy substance was lost.

Whatever the reason, be it scientific or mythological, no one could doubt the beauty that the shooting stars displayed.

Still, even in this relative peace Ivan found himself concerned over his companion's state of mind. She seemed better this night, almost relieved. But he had no real way of knowing for sure if it was a feint or not unless he read her mind, which was absolutely not acceptable, or to just ask her about it. He chose the latter, just to be respectful.

"Hey, Sheba," he started gently. "How are you feeling?"

She looked over to her right at him, her arms folded neatly behind her head. "Hmm?"

He followed suit in the same gesture, except in the left direction. "I mean... How are you really feeling? You know what I mean." He inwardly groaned, thinking it was far easier to get information via mind reading.

She stared at him a moment, her eyes unblinking, piercing practically. Then she gave a full force grin, "Great! I've never been better!"

Sheba smiled some more as she left the dumbfounded blond to her right to his thoughts, and she focused her attention once again to the stars. They weren't much, but they gave her some consolation to her fears, something which she had spent the better part of the day dreading. The relief felt out of place in relation to that fact, but she accepted it all the same.

It was nice to be able to breathe and not feel suffocated at the same time.

Her eyes flickered across the sky for a moment, noticing an abnormally lengthy comet. That, of course, meant it was equally amazing, and she had to point it out to Ivan before it flamed out into dust.

Pointing earnestly, she said, "Oh, oh! Look, that comet's so long!" She waited briefly for Ivan to shift his conscious back to the sky. "Do you see it? It's amazing, right?"

Ivan saw it, that much was certain. He also saw how spectacularly long it was, and also noted just how large it was. Furthermore, he was also the one to notice that it seemed to sail directly high above them.

And then it stopped suddenly, which made his eyes widen in disbelief. What followed was realization that it was growing at an alarming rate, and in this case, meant that it was heading straight for them.

Adrenaline, as a matter of due process, _never_ let Ivan down.

"That comet is heading straight towards us Sheba! We need to move, now!" From there, he half dragged and half carried Sheba from where she was a few meters behind them, to the edge of the clearing.

He did not have the heart to look behind him as the screeching of the comet increased steadily in pitch. Yet, as the sound waves got unbearable, he jumped, pulling Sheba in front of him to protect her as the ground behind them erupted in a disgusting crash and a tremendous cloud of dirt.

Slowly, he hoisted himself back onto his feet, helping his companion steady herself as she too rose. They looked to each other momentarily in a stint of shock, before turning back to the dust cloud that was once their camp.

Ivan made a mental note that whatever was inside the comet, if there even was something _alive_ inside that thing, was certainly going to be unpleasant. From where he was, the temperature around him took on a distasteful stance. It was a sick combination of hot and cold, of rage and malice, and Ivan could not tell whether he should have sweated, or froze. Even as the cloud slowly ebbed away from existence and settled, Ivan had no real will to use his psynergy and blow it away. If the hair raising reaction he felt on the back of his neck was any indication, he definitely did not want to be here any longer. So he looked to his companion, thinking it best if they now fled.

But when he looked, he was shocked by what he saw.

She looked as frail as he had ever seen her, a cruel cross between being incredibly ill and having the wind completely knocked from her lungs. Pale as she was, she was collapsed onto both knees, her hands visibly shaking. She was not experiencing fear; no, far from it. What she felt was pure terror. Something only her nightmares could top, and instead of topping them, the situation downright obliterated them.

Sheba let out something akin to a half strangled sob, and Ivan found himself crouching down to her level in and placing his hand on her shoulder in concern. He tried his best to ignore her violent flinch as he did so.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, as if the repugnant atmosphere around them was not enough indication, when she started to babble and stutter.

"O-oh no... It can't... I-impossible!" Her voice was hoarse, wrought with a horror Ivan had trouble wondering how it could have possible laced into her.

It was at that moment that the cloud chose to relax and disappear, showing two figures standing prideful at the edge of a crater. One was dressed in a full array of blues, while the other armed himself in metals and reds. The halberd he held over his back, even though partially hidden, looked vicious.

Sheba let out a blood-curdling scream.

* * *

The scream that dripped with fright caused the man in blue to cock an eyebrow in grim skepticism, and then turn to his gruff companion. He noted that the man beside him somehow managed to control his emotions very well despite the "enticing" meal that the extreme emotions of others gave. Somehow, he had no idea whether to be relieved over this, or completely horrified.

In a dull tone, he asked, "This is a joke, right? You're going to stand there and tell me with a straight face that _her_, of all people, is your wanton minion?" He earned no reaction, and continued. "Lance, look at her! She screamed just by seeing us, and she does not even know who we are! How can she, with such a weak mind, be useful in the slightest?"

Lance let out a low chuckle that bordered on a growl. But the growl was not the disturbing part; it was his whole body lurching with each bellow of sound that made the blue-clad man's upper lip twitch.

"Foolish brother," Lance said. "It is because she has a weak mind that we can use her to our advantage. Every person has a history, and in every history there is a piece of information that can be used to shatter and reshape the entire mind. I will have access to all of hers... and the rest that I could never know can be easily dug up because of her now defenseless mind. Can you see that, brother?" He was given the barest of nods, and Lance grinned. "I'm going to mentally rape her psyche in such a way that it becomes mine, and in turn, she becomes my tool. Observe when I do, Alex, for you too will someday do this."

Alex scoffed at the proclamation, the fake foreshadowing having no bearing to him. He had no need for indecencies such as this... But if he were going to someday beat Lance at his own game, he may as well learn. Every one of his advantages was another's failures, as far as Alex was concerned.

Still, the slight glimmer in his brother's eyes, the ever so carefully hidden fringes of his sanity lurking just beneath the surface, gave him a bad taste in his mouth. He wanted power to rule, not authority to torture and maim.

Lance started going forward, forcing Alex from the safety of his thoughts, his halberd resting casually on his shoulder as he moved in a bleak stalk. Alex followed, unconsciously keeping his distance at the same time.

Across the clearing, Ivan watched the pair move closer, as the girl held in his arms shook fiercely. At the same time, Ivan could not help but believe that this was what her dreams were of, and if that was true, then her fear was rightly substantial. These two were just as dreadful to him as both of the antagonistic Proxian duos before them.

Sheba needed to run. He should too, he believed, but if she was more important to them than himself, all the more reason he stay and she flee.

"Sheba!" he hissed, shaking her. There was no visible reaction, just the continuance of silent tears running down her face, and the constant heaves her hyperventilation gave her. "Sheba! Sheba! You need to move!" Still no response, and she started to curl into herself. "Dammit!"

He slapped her, hard, across the face, clearing her of any shock.

"Sheba!" He watched her raise her right hand to her right check, as she stared in blank recognition of him, her eyes openly wide. "Sheba, you need to run! Now! I'll keep them here!"

She started to stammer, "B-but! They'll k-kill you! Even together w-we can't beat them! They only want m-m-me! You ru-"

"Don't finish that sentence! I'm not going to let them take you without a fight. If it's you they're after, then it's you that I am going to protect! Now you run, get far from here!" He shook her from his clothes, and drew his wakizashi in his main, right hand. In the off he channeled an immense amount of psynergy, the loud static forming a visible lightning blanket around his arm.

The young woman stood wobbly, and whispered, "Ivan..."

Barely registering the sound, he looked back at her and snapped, "What are you doing?! Run!"

She stared at the soft, but strong determination in his eyes, and then turned towards the wicked grin of the man in red haunting towards her, and then back to Ivan's. She gulped audibly, and whispered harshly her counterpart, "Don't die, Ivan! You run too when you can, to Vault!"

She saw him nod his head harshly, and that was all the answer she needed. She made a right angle to the left of the foes he faced, and used her extreme speed to sprint into the forest.

At that same moment, Lance grunted in amusement. "Hoh? Alex... Go retrieve her." The command was obeyed heedlessly, with no obvious disdain, as Alex took off towards the same part of the forest Sheba used.

Ivan witnessed, and shot off his lightning bolt with what he thought was extreme accuracy. Much to his surprise and displeasure, an oversized fireball careened into it, causing it to ricochet off course and directly into a tree, splintering it in all directions. Alex flew harmlessly past those pieces of wood and into the forest after his charge, seemingly unperturbed.

Ivan let off a clinched shout and was about to take off after him when he felt a sudden, vast psynergy force come from the man near him. He watched in appalled fascination as the man called Lance summoned flames in both hands and then slither up both forearms, to the elbow joints.

In a grin quite unlike any he had ever seen before, Ivan heard the man say, "Hey, boy. Don't you think that girl is rather... the least of your problems right now?"

Lance giggled.

* * *

Naturally, by manner of due course, Sheba absolutely was required to choose the densest path through the forests near Kalay. It would have flabbergasted Alex to no end if she did not. The way his luck worked, if things did not go from bad to worse, than something inevitably horrid was guaranteed to occur. It was literally, to him, an unwritten law to make every single action in his life be miserable. It was a stupid one, no doubt, but that did not stop it from existing in its fantastical sense.

And so, he found himself racing through brush and branches like the gates of Hell itself were opening behind him. Ahead of him was his charge, the brat that he was oh so tempted to freeze solid from waist down. Teach her to never run from either brother again, he would. Oh sure, she would be rather useless as a minion from that point on, but then again, Alex thought she was useless in the first place. So what could be so wrong about whetting his senses to a little sadistic, tempting pleasure?

Well... the sociopath in the clearing behind him was a damn good reason to keep his ice to himself. No temptation should be worth risking life.

Unless the temptation ran the chance of getting ever-lasting power the size of which only Gods could dream of. Yes, that would definitely be worth a very painful death.

Shaking his thoughts from cruel fun, Alex was still awed by how the girl before him seemed to move so fluidly through the flora. Whereas he just broke and blasted everything out of his way, she managed to squeeze and flow past everything, even though it slowed her to a great degree. A degree, he found himself deadpanned to note, was still just ever so slightly faster than himself. He guessed that smaller bodies had a slight advantage in this type of environment. Especially when he considered the amount of fatigue he was getting by the constant barrage of wood. He was even whiplashed twice to the face so far! Alex was positive that at this rate, she would completely disappear from his sight, and then run all the way to someplace populated.

That would be a terribly bad outcome, for both himself, and her when she was found again.

Even hurling chunks of ice the size of footballs or gushing water geysers at her had little to no effect, those that were even accurate. She would just fling up a gust of wind to misdirect it into some unsuspecting tree, or worse, she would dodge it outright by some other woody barrier. Needless to say, this was infuriating for Alex.

He need a plan, a trap of some sort to catch her, or at least slow her down. Stunning her would be great as well, but most of his skills required him to be accurate. She also had a lot of traction on the ground despite her speed.

Then Alex grimaced in stupidity, doing his damnedest to continue running faultlessly without tripping from the same effect.

Running at that speed requires on unheard of levels traction so this way one does not slip. Even on dry surfaces this was almost impossible. If one were to step on something that had no traction whatsoever, such as ice, the chances of slipping up were infinitely higher. All Alex needed to do was get the ice to her before she either realized it was coming, or unconsciously ran away from it. What was better was that he knew how to do it, even though it needed an absurd amount of psynergy to pull off. He would only have one good chance in his current state, after orbing for such a long distance.

He stopped short, just barely able to keep his balance. Channeling psynergy through his arms to his hands, he slammed both his palms to the rough ground before him. In that instant, frost burst forth from the contact and raced along the ground towards Sheba. Everything touched by the icy concoction was turned to ice.

Naturally, luck was not on Alex's side, as Sheba did happen to notice it, and, as she was guaranteed to do, she jumped off the ground and into the air. Sadly for her, she caught a large branch to the gut on the way up, which caused her to spiral out of control through the air. She tried her best to have the wind blow her back on some controllable course, but to no real avail.

Alex managed to figure out the trajectory of where she was going before she would land. If she landed just on dry ground, she could get up and keep going, and that was in no feasible way favorable to him. So he grunted in effort, forcing even more psynergy into his power. The ice shot forward even swifter than before, making a massive landing strip of frost where Sheba would land.

Predictably, she wound up exactly were Alex estimated. She collided with a great crash, and began sliding through the frozen plants and grass. Where her skin was not clothed, such as her face and hands, little cuts appeared, including a not so nice gash just below her left eye. Sheba continued to slide speedily through the frozen vegetation until there was no more ice, at which point she bounced across the ground violently until she smashed with a sickening crack chest-first into a thick tree.

_Oh Gods... That was a few ribs, has to be._ She thought dryly to herself.

Sheba moaned in what she thought of as exquisite pain, struggling to climb back on her feet and continue to flee. She grabbed the left side of her torso tentatively at the same time, as that was the part that hurt the most.

When frigid rain started to heavily pour atop her head, she was almost completely back to her feet. But the rain was just far too cold and wet, causing stinging pains where ever it landed on her. She sunk regrettably back to her knees in a shivering mass, at a loss on how to escape from her fate.

The shivers were not for fear though, just the cold. The fear... that she had gotten over in her mad dash for freedom. Maybe even before that, when Ivan pledged he would protect her with his life. Or the slap he gave her even before that, and she was just slow to recover. No, fear was far from her mind, and in its place was only how to change destiny.

She watched with a bemused, shallow look in her eyes as Alex lugged himself into the very tiny clearing she found herself in, one of his hands raised to keep the rain pouring. As he too stepped into the rain he had conjured, she saw with dry amusement all the bruises he was covered with as he attempted to keep up. His clothes were completely tattered. She watched her breath freeze through her hair, which was plastered wetly to her face from the extreme moisture, and then let out a weak chuckle.

He watched her laugh at him with an arid satisfaction around him. The sensation increased when he saw her shocked visage at how he used his offhand to heal the bruises off his face in a dim, azure light. He sighed in relief, his breath slowly regulating itself back to normal, and said through a small smile, "You're fast, I am willing to give you that much."

Sheba accepted the compliment in her mind, but did not show it. Instead, she balled her fists tight, and buried the hand not holding her side deeper into her clothing to find something akin to warmth. She said calmly, "Don't waste your breath on compliment, Alex. You're not trustworthy enough to give them." She paused, and then continued with a growl, "And there's no way I'll comply with what you two are doing. I refuse to come."

Alex remained entirely impassive, the only sign of expression being the hand he kept raised for the rainfall. Then he said, in an unaccustomed gentleness, "You have some good insight too, to figure out what we want you for already. I'm surprised really, maybe brother was right about you."

Sneering, she said, "I could kill you right now, you know. And then whatever you're planning will just go up in smoke."

He started to approach her and said, "That would be most unwise of you given the circumstances."

The recognizable crackling of static coming from the hand hidden in her clothes caused him to move with sudden urgency. She barely had time to see him react as he used his offhand to hoist her up and slam her into the tree she had done the same thing to just a few minutes before. His main hand then quickly drew a hidden gladius and held it in a reverse hold to her throat. He looked at her with a quiet fury to his eyes, something quite different from his cool blankness before. Surrounding them, the rain halted, the hand that fed them now delightfully preoccupied with another task.

Sheba hand to stifle a gulp as he pressed the blade even closer to her jugular artery, and he said. "So what, you'll try to electrocute me? Don't be stupid in my presence, because I do not tolerate it. If you sent off the electrical charge, it would have killed both of us, you idiot. Then whatever stand your friend is making out there to my brother would have been completely futile. He would die, as would you, and nothing good would come of it."

He lessened how much pressure the blade against her neck had. Her eyes hardened, near inches away from his, and she said, "But you would have been killed, as you just admitted. Are you sure that is not what really riled you up? The fear of death? Is that what you were truly afraid of?"

"No," he said with a deep confidence as his eyes went utterly dark and expressionless again.

Alex gave a hard look to her again, subconsciously feeling just how much of his body he had used to slam her against the tree behind her. It was a satisfying sensation. "You know..." He raised the hand with the blade a bit, and healed the wound over her eye, where the blood had already made a steady flow from there, down her face and jaw, and lower until into her clothing. "I can be really quite kind..."

The few moments she had to feel awed were stripped from her sharply as he remade the cut again over her eye, the same way it was before he healed it, with his gladius. "And I can also be very, very cruel. Don't play games, don't test me, and we may just get along in our respective situations."

There was an odd mixture of panic and anger in her eyes, he noted, as he placed the weapon back into its holster from its previous location of just mere inches from her right eye. The reopened wound had already bled down the side of her cheek again, giving her a peculiar beauty, one of a battered but brave warrior, not that he would admit it. He forced her to the ground on her stomach, where her eyes screwed up into a visible reaction to the pain she felt in her chest. Meticulously, Alex took pieces of industrial grade rope out from a pocket in his clothes, and started to bind her hands behind her back.

When he was done, he rested, cracking his knuckles before sighing, and resting a hand on her shoulder. The rain, as he finally realized, had completely tapered off, but he no longer had any need of it. He said to her in a tone she could not quite place, "Don't misunderstand me. I don't like this situation anymore than you yourself do, I imagine."

She snorted from beneath him, her face hidden by her soaking hair. "But you're still going through with it. Shows how weak-minded you are."

Alex momentarily remembered how Lance said he would use her weak mind against her. And then he noted with some dour pleasure that she was not nearly as weak-minded as he made her out to be. There was a very painful irony in her curt words, and he found that he was at the epicenter of it.

"No, not really," he said. "There are dissimilarities. I have differences, limits, at least something resembling honor. Whereas he is a maniac, I'm just clever and devious."

Sheba snorted again from his arrogance, only to flinch from the pain around her lungs. "And what would you know of honor or limits?" she implored.

She was rather amazed when he did not give answer right away. She struggled beneath him a bit to look over her shoulder at him, only to see that he was actually thinking about it. It was not overtly obvious, but deep in the back of his eyes, she could see he was remembering a lot.

Finally, he looked her in the one visible eye he could see, and said, "Far more than I would actually care to talk about."

When she said nothing to that, he took that as his cue that they were done here. He picked her up, surprised to find no resistance from her, aside from acting like dead weight. He carried her bridal style, much to her surprise, which caused her to press the curiosity. "Why are you carrying me this way?" Her voice was timid.

He started to walk through the forest, quickly locating the path of broken foliage he made. It looked like a miniature tornado swept through, and was rather difficult to miss. Alex said to her, "It is easier to carry you in this manner." Alex took a few more steps, and then continued with honesty, "And carrying you any other way would have caused you more pain than I felt was necessary."

Quietly, he could have sworn she called him a "fickle bastard", but he made no big issue of it. Being aloof, secretive, and unpredictable was an aura he used to great effect on people of all varieties.

They had been walking for awhile when she asked with what was paranormal perceptiveness, "Is it going to hurt bad? Will Ivan be killed?"

Alex actually stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at the curious girl in his arms. Questions flew into his head, none of which he wanted to ask for fear of getting too close to the girl. Sure he could drop ties to people at the drop of a hat, but that did not mean he wanted to. He noted that her lips were quivering as he looked away.

"I don't know the answer to either of those," he said plainly, still appalled at how she knew what Lance had in mind for her. "But," he said more gently. "If my brother stays true to form, I would not be surprised at either of those occurring."

He knew it was not reassuring, and knew even more by the shaking she started. Alex needed to block that from his mind, and then the whimpering after wards in order to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Each shaky snivel she gave out was followed by a palpable cringe, right there held in his arms. He outright refused to look her in the face, specifically her eyes. He repeated to himself again that he could not afford to get attached to her. It was not proper.

He was battered, bruised, but he did his job. He ran through a forest at speeds he did not think he was capable of, used psynergy to the point of being almost completely drained, and was almost alright killed in a suicidal manner by the young woman he was supposed to retrieve. He obtained the girl, but at what cost?

Wondering insipidly, Alex was curious if whatever was about to happen to the girl in his arms would be something he would later regret.

* * *

Truthfully, Ivan wondered how in the hell he had not passed out just from the sudden fear he received by being near this man. It's not every day you see some maniac half engulfed in flames and wielding what looked to be a cursed halberd ready to mutilate you, and then giggle all in the same picture. Sanity was clearly not one of Lance's stronger points, Ivan assumed.

Not that he actually had much time to do any real assuming, as he swiftly found that avoiding the wall of flames blasting his way to be of much higher priority. He blitzed right, the fringes of his cloak narrowly avoiding the heat of his foe. He landed deftly, which gave him enough time to gawk the spectacle of hellish flames, before he realized that Lance was still blasting them just to drive that point home.

He was one really, strong, bastard.

Ivan ground his teeth as the flames died down beside him, their last flickers of life lingering lazily on the blackened soil beneath them. He summoned visible electric currents down both his arms, in a similar fashion to how Lance did, and rushed forward with his wakizashi poised to plunge into his ever grinning foe.

Lance effortlessly knocked Ivan's blade arm way out of any feasible defensive position with his halberd, to which Ivan reacted by surging his lightning straight into Lance's gut. He watched in cool fascination that instantly changed to horror, how Lance lit up in spectacular ways, and looked completely unfazed.

Lance grabbed Ivan's hand in a strong grip, and flames started to rush his offending arm. He reigned in enough control to growl out, "You need to hate me more! Maybe then you'll actually cause some pain. Idiot!"

When the flames raced up his own arm, Ivan panicked for a few moments and sent of a sloppily made gust of wind. Lance was shoved completely off-balance, which gave Ivan enough time to jump away from him and make distance.

It was not as if Ivan had never been burned before, oh no, he had been through enough fights to feel burns. It was just that the burning sensation is just one that he just could not get used too. Quite literally, it takes your breath away in pain. It left him barely standing there, a cold sweat manifesting itself around his body as he attempted to relearn how to breathe.

Lance gave what could only be described as a look of pity. Ironically, that was replaced by a sneer as he rushed forward, his unvoiced question of "Should I go easy on him?" being utterly overthrown by his sense of sadistic pleasure.

As it turns out, in addition to apparently being out classed in terms of who had more psynergenic power, he was also out classed in melee completely. One would think that with such a large and unwieldy weapon, Lance would be rather slow in his attacks. Ivan soon found that to be quite incorrect, as Lance was not only fast and skilled with the weapon, but he was better in both those aspects when compared to Ivan. The only thing Ivan could really use to his advantage was his confusing legwork, and how Lance was ultimately not used to swift kicks such as the ones Ivan hardly managed to dish out.

He spent the bulk of his time dodging one attack after another, along with getting the occasional parry out. It was during those parries that he managed to kick Lance and knock him off guard. If he was really lucky, he could use the same arm that he held his wakizashi in, since his other arm was too burned to move, to blow a large gust of wind at Lance and knock him off balance in such a way that he may actually counter attack.

Naturally, he never made it past his opponent's halberd before he found himself on a retreating defense again.

To make matters worse, Lance superheated the blade of his weapon, if the orange glow it gave off that rivaled a blacksmith's metal was any indication. Every time he swung that blade, a rather large wave of fire rushed at Ivan as well, and he could honestly say he was dodging twice the amount of attacks he should have been because of it.

Grunting in pain as a another wave of flames licked his already wounded arm, Ivan surged psynergy through his arms in a last ditch effort to at least hurt his foe. The gale wind blew forcefully at Lance, who dug his heels into the dirt and covered his face with his arms. He was blown back, his feet still dug into the ground, leaving two shoddy trails after his boots.

But Ivan smiled at the real point of that wind, which was designed to cut easily. The wind would solidify itself as it went, causing cuts and scratches to appear all over the foe, and if left to blow for a long time, severe gashes could also be made. Ivan did not have the psynergy left for that, but he was happy in knowing he could cut Lance somewhat.

That delight died though when he saw Lance release his resisting posture, only to reveal not a scratch on him, no blood at all. A smirk was evident on his face as he lifted up the hem of his red tunic to reveal what was beneath it. He said definitely, "You'll need wind twice as powerful as that to cut through this chainmail, kid. But still, I'm impressed, you did manage to scratch it at least. See?"

Lance pointed to the numerous scratches, that not only tore up his shirt, but did indeed scrape his armor. But Ivan was not really listening by that point, defeated as to what other options he had. He could run, but he had no positive way of knowing if Sheba got away, and if she was indeed captured, and if he was even lucky enough to be captured rather than killed, she'd need help to get away. It was rare, but Ivan had no idea what to do at this point, and had no tricks up his sleeve that could get him out of this situation. What was left of his psynergy would never be able to overwhelm the force before him.

Ivan was brought out of his perpetual stupor when Lance said with a mocking tone, "But, to that end, this has ultimately become boring." A long whip of molten lava materialized in his offhand, and he continued, "so I'll end this. I think you would agree, hmm?"

Whatever retort Ivan had in mind was squashed deftly as he managed to stop the whip from lashing across his eyes with his wakizashi. He had not counted on the whip wrapping itself tightly to his weapon though, effectively making it useless. Ivan struggled to free it with all the strength his uninjured arm had, but his opponent's pure strength was more than a match for his. He watched in subdued dread as Lance held his halberd in a joisting position with his other arm, prepared to run the unguarded Ivan through.

Pain no longer being the gravest issue to Ivan, he used his injured arm to fire off a lightning strike the tip of Lance's halberd. It connected, and from there traveled up the weapon and into the Lance himself, the voltage causing him to momentarily shake violently as he lost control of his nerves.

When the attack was finished, both Lance and Ivan's injured arm smoked from the onslaught of electricity. With his arm already injured, he was unable to keep the electricity from hurting himself in the process of the attack. Still, he had a small sense of satisfaction knowing he just gave Lance the biggest jolt of his life, his head hanging somewhat limply was any indication.

A small chuckle rumbled from within his chest, and Lance looked up at Ivan. His eyes were distant and flickering between lively and icy as he said, "Very stupid, but not bad. That hurt, which is why it was not bad for you, at the first look. But at a second glance, this also means I'll incapacitate you in a much more painful way. Hence, why you're last ditch attack was very unwise."

Lance then used his immense strength to rip Ivan's weapon clear from his grasp with his whip. Then in one fluid motion, swirled it around in the air and then launched it back at its owner. Ivan, who was far too shocked and fatigued to dodge, felt the blade pierce through his left shoulder, yank him backwards through the air, and then pin him roughly into the lower bark of a tree.

After the initial grunt left his mouth, from his sitting, pinned posture, Ivan made to free his weapon from his flesh and the tree behind him. Unfortunately, he was facing down the length of Lance's halberd before he could even attempt this idea.

He received a distant look from Lance as his foe said, "In a battle, one must always look two steps ahead of his opponent or more. You lost because you failed in that aspect, and then constantly stayed a further two steps before by focusing only on how to keep your friend from me. You were cocky and arrogant, thinking you could beat me through your power alone. You thought you had a ton of experience behind you through your distant travels through Weyard." He paused, letting that fact sink in a bit, then went in for the most important point. "You never thought there would be someone more powerful than who traveled with you. Well, your lesson today is that, there is indeed someone who is more powerful than all of you, and you're looking right at him."

Lance removed his halberd from Ivan's face and said, "Sit there and ponder your defeat all you want, but be quiet while you're at it. And enjoy the show that's coming, because they're almost back."

Between the pain, mocking, and incoming information that Sheba was most likely captured, Ivan let forth a growl. He was stopped rather swiftly though, as the halberd shot narrowly past his head and splintered into the wood behind him.

"Quiet!" Lance snarled. "Don't make me take back my mercy and kill you."

Under the threat of imminent death, Ivan clamped his mouth shut. He watched the terrible gleam in Lance's eyes flicker mere inches away from his face.

Lance giggled.

* * *

Lance was rational, he was intelligent, he was intuitive. He was also methodically and almost zealously insane.

Stifling his giggles when he saw Alex carry a rather restrained Sheba into the small and rather crisp clearing was a bit more than his slated mind could handle. The look on her face only served to tip him over the edge, as she was dipped in just the right amount of fear and anxiety. Truly beautiful.

He could not even bring himself to be overly mad that she was injured, just because they only made the picture that much more perfect. The image of the near broken girl before him was now forever seared into his mind, for him to now cherish and remember whenever the need arose for him.

That was something he was fairly gleeful over.

"Magnificent," he uttered in a magnanimous tone. He motioned for Alex to set her on the ground, and the younger sibling did as commanded, albeit rather gently. Lance made no objection though; he did not want his precious cargo harmed anymore than it already was.

Lance made a brief, cool walk over to her, continuing to analyze and admire her kneeling, almost broken form. The almost was a definite. Sheba kept her head raised just enough so that she could cut her eyes to him. It was rather demonic, he resolved himself to assume, the way they seemed to glare through the veil her splattered hair created. This also happened to be perfect for him, and he instinctively fell in love with the term.

"Hello hello, my little Demon." The satanic word made the girl give a cursory cringe, barely visible to the untrained eye. Lance's, of course, was trained very well.

He leaned forward at an imposing angle, his body towering over her. "What? Does your title terrify you?" The ridicule in his voice plunged, and he said, "You shouldn't be, if it does. After all, it is your legacy."

Sheba made a forced effort to bite back her tongue, refusing to let herself lash out at her antagonist. She needed her wits, and she would ultimately lose those completely if she gave Lance what he desired. That was something she was certain she would not be giving, for it was not in her nature to panic and break down mental defenses.

Beyond that, she did not even need to take what he said to heart. A demon; the very idea of it was the most inane, preposterous thought she had ever heard. The fact that he applied it to her being almost made her want to laugh. Almost was the keyword. The almost was also something she happened to shove deep into the recesses of her mind. Laughing was not prudent when giggling was the forte of the manic before her.

She bit her lower lip to bring herself back into reality, just in time to see Lance show her his palm in a gesture that suggested he would be giving her a gift.

He grinned, his canines delighting in the moon's glow, and he said, "I said that Demon was your title, yes… but really, it should really be known that it is your legacy that you should be worried about, and there are two meanings that apply to you. One… is the standard sense, a legacy, an essence, a story that you leave behind, imprinted delicately or viciously onto people's mind. The other… is from the sense of procreation. In other words, you're the living, breathing spawn of your parents, the most notorious of thieves and assassins the great, Luna-bound city of Anemos has ever had the misfortune to encounter. Yes, I do mean you."

If he was expecting a reaction, Sheba made no motion of any. Lies were not something that could stir her up, and most certainly, if he was actually trying to jar her into some sort of debilitating mental mood, lies would be the most correct route to take. But for her, she found his grin only deepened as she made no overt expressions

"You seem unconvinced, which is to be expected. But, what if we could say, travel back in time. To a time where history records the last great treachery your parents tried to achieve, and failed because you were held with you. Something you would remember, even though they were locked deep within your mind…" He held his right hand level to her, as if her were creating a stage for actors, and placed his other hand somewhat above her head, where heat slowly seeped into her being.

It was then that Sheba felt a rather uneasy sensation slip between her two temples, and then on the hand before her eyes, figures of flame manifested themselves, figures that seemed eerily identical to feigned images that were at the moment racing on a crash course through the vestiges of her mind. They were slow to form at first, resembling only that of faceless, featureless humans at first; a vast number of clones. But then the features became presentable, the faces were unmistakable.

The male of the two had short hair, forming a crew cut, supported by a headband with two tails flying a foot and a half out from the knot. He was bound in form-fitting ninja garbs, the chainmail evident beneath them. He had a machete in a vice-like grip in his right hand. Behind him was a woman dressed similarly with a bundle of cloth clutched tightly in her arms. Her facial structure was pointedly identical to Sheba's, right down to the angered visage she gave off.

Surrounding them was a horde of soldiers, clad in segmented armor, their spears and shields all the same, the shields showing the ankh of Anemos. They all had their spears held in an overhand grip, similar to that of a lightweight hasta, all honed in directly on the two Sheba now most definitely assumed were her parents.

Above her, Lance gave off a grin, his canines making another characteristic appearance, although well out of her point of view. "Well… now this IS an interesting predicament that they have landed themselves in. I do believe that they are rather surrounded, and from the looks of it, they seem rather drained in the Psynergy department."

Her eyes, which were now way beyond the stages of shock and disbelief, were now in a glazed sort of hypnotized state, and in essence, rather unresponsive. The lines surrounding them thickened in lay of his antics, but nothing more. She was lost to the memories of her mind.

The Mars adept felt his eyes go shifty, and he said "Now… let us witness what treachery has been committed unto them, and thereby unto you."

On the stage of flames, another person strolled into the circle of spears. He was obviously a person of importance, a captain maybe, and his posture indicated that he demanded such respect, his long hair flowing freely behind him. His armor was incredibly bright and enamored in more ankhs then any shield or flag could hope to achieve. In his left hand he gripped onto vastly huge sword, ornate in sharpness, and almost crystalline in structure.

He spoke, and somehow, his voice came to life about them, the vehemence very noticeable.

"Cero and Seria, you have been charged with anarchy and treason against your own people, state, and clan. By order of the Council of Zephyr, I have been tasked with carrying out your execution, publicly. If you have any last words, scoundrels, I suggest that you scream them out before my blade cleaves you in two."

He started to stalk forward even as the man named Cero readied himself, his voice not cracking, "Gods damn you, Augustus! Do you not know what they hold and keep from you? The very thing they constantly have us slaughter people for?! We are the council's right hand at silencing the nosy! They would kill even us, after all the work we have done. Can you see the injustice, Augustus?! Can't you see our plight?!"

The man who was called Augustus stopped his stride, looking briefly thoughtful. He said, "I no longer see injustice or justice. I only see the mission, for what civilization can be run if its men ignore their duty? Your duty used to be the killing of those who looked too far into things that sparked the Great War. And now? Well, now your duty is to die, be silenced yourselves, just as my duty is to make sure I see you in two pieces, preferably vertically. I should hope your bantering is done." He raised the sword above his head with both his hands, towering above Cero. "Because, assassin, I no longer wish to tarry."

Cero had just enough time to turn to his wife for one last look into her eyes, before his face, torso, and pelvis split farther apart then ever naturally possible. The eruption of blood that sprayed both her and Augustus were pivotal in her clutching the bundle even closer to her bosom.

Augustus was not fazed by this display of carnage, and just resumed his previous stance, his sword once again held high in the air above his head. "You may want to drop that _thing_ in your arms. It will get in the way of your execution." His voice was so emotionless, it caused some of the soldiers nearby to shudder.

Seria pulled the pile of cloth even tighter, and a small, muffled cry came from within it. Tears threatened to stream down her face, from her current trapped state. Her voice cracked as she uttered, "It is true, then… you have n-no mercy! You b-bastard!"

"None," was all he gave her before saying once more, "I will not repeat myself, get rid of that thing from your arms."

She made no move to drop the bundle, and that proved to hasten her charged demise. Augustus swung the blade down at an angle, towards her legs, effectively taking them off and throwing her into the air, the bundle tossed even further as a shriek left her body. That noise was effortlessly cut off though, as she was swiftly stabbed through the heart before her dismembered limbs landed. He snagged the bundle out of the air, where a steady cry erupted from its interior.

Slowly withdrawing his sword, he spoke with authority to the men around him. "Leave the bodies, let them be a sign to any traitors to the Crown of Anemos and the Council of Zephyr. And you there!" He tossed the bundle to a nearby soldier, who had been just attentive enough to catch the bundle with ease. Augustus continued, "I want you to send that thing to Weyard through the Gate. Maybe some fools down there will take it in, or maybe it will die. Either way, dispose of it through there, for it has shamed parents that were a waste of breath, and therefore so is it."

The soldier gave a quick look to the ashamed cloth, and curtly said, "Yes, Slayer Augustus." His salute was stout, and he ran off the preset stage of flames. As he did, the flames faded, but not before one could see Augustus stalk off, refusing to wipe his blade clean of blood, and in turn letting it drip of traitor's quintessence in the street.

Lance had to admit, that was better than he had hoped for. He had made assumptions based off of tales around the girls landing, how the cloth covering her held the ankh of Anemos and was covered in blood, but this took the prize of any idea he had. To make her his would now just be child's play, he estimated, if she wasn't already his.

He moved his hands away from her listless form, and her head immediately sagged, her face hidden by her matted hair. Lance slinked into a crouching position behind her, and began to whisper deliberately into her ear. "As you can see, the people of Anemos glorified in the death of your parents, people who worked and killed tirelessly for their very government. After their deaths, people danced and pranced in the streets, the sires of pain, death, and fear were finally executed. The Demons of Jupiter, so they had been dubbed, were no more. As for their child, a small girl, well, you were just tossed aside like a rag, and were hoped to have perished."

"But you did not perish, now did you? No, you lived, you became strong, you mastered the arts of combat, Psynergy, and psychology. You're a warrior that they would hope to never see again, and one that they will see again. They tortured your parents, wished to destroy you, and would do so to anyone else, just like any other power in Weyard would."

Lance paced into standing right in front of her, and looked down on her no longer shuddering form. "But it does not have to be like that. Not when I become in power. People will be bound by laws, the corruption will be banished from the thoughts of any man by pain of death, the secrets will disappear, and the control, which will only spring forth freedom with the safety, will be total."

He held out his left hand to her, open, begging embrace. "Arise, Sheba. Be my left hand, my fighting strength, just as my younger brother Alex is my right. Together, we will bring about your vengeance and your justice, and show them just how wrong they were to label you a demon, when you can be so much worse." He paused, and then commanded, believing her ready, "Come to me."

Sheba's voice was barely audible, her face still hidden beneath her locks. But the assurance was there, the change, the determination; they were all present with that one word, "Yes".

As she rose to take her master's hand, a cry of defiance ripped from Ivan's mouth. He ripped the sword that pinned him out of his body, ignoring the pain and new sensation of liquefied life seeping down his torso. He leapt forward with vigor, keeping the two hands from touching one another. He turned to Sheba, his eyes wild with fury and desperation, witnessing the change that had slowly taken hold of her.

"Sheba, you can't do this! Listening to him, him of all people! That's just madness! He almost killed me, and he almost had you killed in the process! And just think, with this plan of his, do you know how many people will die? How many innocents will perish just to exert that level of control? It will be akin to abhorrent amounts of genocide! Do you really want to fall to that kind of evil? Just turn your back on all we have accomplished for peace? On myself, our friends, and even Felix?!"

Her hand shot out faster than he could register, and it was already seizing his neck before he started to react. She brought her face up, and he could see, her eyes were no longer her own. The malevolence that had taken them, the hatred, they were sown far too deep. Ivan knew then that his passionate pleads had fallen on deaf ears. He failed.

"Don't you DARE speak his name in my presence! What I do and how I treat him is my own business! The people of this world… you've seen the corruption; you have with your master. And you know as well as I the lust for power people will have once Alchemy is rediscovered by all peoples. It's only a matter of time. So why not elicit a total control? And why can't I have my revenge? You can't stop me, join me yes Ivan, but you will not stop my decision."

Ivan looked at her with disbelief. She was rationally thinking, and it was almost like her, but her thought process was completely different. This was not her, and Lance must have had some control over her.

"Sheba… You know Revenge accomplishes nothing! Neither does death! Stop it, stop this madness and just come back to us. You say we should join you, but you know none of us would. We are not murderers, and neither are you." He made an attempt to grab her shoulder, to which she shoved him back violently.

She rose to her feet, standing to the left of Lance, and slowly, from behind Lance, Alex made his reemergence into the scene and stood to his right. Sheba looked at him levelly, the frosty look giving her features the boy never thought possible. "Don't touch me Ivan; I've made up my mind. If you are not with me, with us, then you are against us. Even Felix, if it comes to that."

The defeated Jupiter adept started to rise, and as he did he heard Sheba coarsely say, "I'm warning you Ivan. Just go back, because I am not afraid to kill you if I have to, and in fact I will probably enjoy it."

Staggering, Ivan struggled to stand in his upright, yet sagged position. He grabbed his more wounded arm, and let out a weak chuckle. "So you will kill me, murder me, someone who has been your friend for such a long time, all over some recovered memory of yours and the ravings of a lunatic. If I cannot save you from such a fate, Sheba, you may as well kill me, and have a good time while you are at it. I may not be able to save you, but at least I'll give you happiness and your now apparently dark, cruel world."

He readied himself, his wounded arm retching, and uttered, "Prove your change Sheba, prove it to all of us. Kill me!"

Ivan charged forward, lightning caressing his entire form, enticing him for a massive release. And as he approached, Sheba just looked at him, frowning. The wind enveloped her instantaneously, and from there sprung forth to Ivan, lifting him precariously into the air, before creating a localized tornado around him.

It was to Ivan's great dismay that the wind itself was rather refined. So refined, that it made small, inconceivable blades that made open slits all around his body repeatedly. His screams higher pitched and more torture-bound than he would have ever wanted. Through the torrent of pain that encompassed him, he saw Sheba, and what he saw frightened him as much as it shocked him, sinking in the realization of her change.

She was smiling. Deviously. Genuinely.

From behind her, Lance put a hand on her shoulder. "Now Sheba, we wouldn't want to kill someone who is useless, no matter how fun it may be." He mirrored the smile she gave off before continuing, "Let the boy go and leave him here, if he has any use, maybe he'll get up and crawl back to his friends, shouldn't be too hard."

Promptly, she stopped the wind from mutilating Ivan. Ivan dropped, almost completely unconscious, the only consciousness left being whatever he could hear. She looked at Lance, silently. There was obedience in her eyes, but beneath them Lance could see a beast waiting to burst out. That was good, he believed. It was something he could use to his advantage at a later time.

Lance turned to Alex, who was more impassive than he originally was. Lance wanted to say aloof, but he knew his younger brother would not be that foolish. "I'm assuming you have enough to orb us away from here and into a nice camping spot? We won't be using that warp skill of yours for much longer. Walking is always a more attractive way of travel, in my opinion."

Alex's reply was short "Correct, on both your assumption and your opinion, and definitely based off my own opinion. Just say when."

"Now would be desirable." Lance gave a cursory look to the crumpled form of Ivan a few feet away, "If you're remotely curious, we're heading for the Mercury Lighthouse, the top of it, if you want to find out more, and possibly join me in my delightful conquest, by all means hurry and follow us, our pace will never be fast. Conquest is a dish best savored than rushed."

Lance's sanity slipped, and he let loose a powerful giggle. He stepped back a bit, Sheba following, her smile manifesting itself in her eyes. Alex closed his mind to them, needing to ponder about all of this, and created the orb around them without any hesitation. Swiftly, when they were all concealed behind its soft blue glow, it floated into the air, and shot north, away from Ivan completely.

Ivan laid there for awhile, completely defeated, his mind barren of all thought. Then the moans escaped from his lips, his chest completely shattered. The moment, the situation, the direness, everything struck him all at once. And he cried. He completely failed, even if he knew the whole thing was hopeless in the first place, the fact that he failed just the same harmed him.

For a long time he just laid there in that prone form, heaving and moaning the whole while. Eventually, he stopped, his mind able to grip reality once again. He knew he had to go back to Vault, that somehow he needed everyone to help. This mission that he was just inadvertently assigned, to stop something terrible from happening at the hands of this fearsome man, was far too tough for one lone warrior.

But how to get back was the problem.

He only had one option, one realistic one. It was dangerous, and it may even kill him afterwards, but it was the only way he would be able to get back in time to warn everyone else. He gave himself week, and even with his current state, that would be enough time.

Ivan rolled over onto his stomach and crawled over to his knapsack, he ripped it open, most of what was inside now useless from the battering of combat. But glass bottle that he pulled out with a glowing green liquid inside, that was far from useless. It was a potion, highly effective, but very easy to overdose on it, and the side effects of withdrawal were almost lethal. Still…

Yanking the cork from the opening, he drained a fourth from the jar, and already he felt the rejuvenating effects. He had to draw it out, nurse from the potion. Too much too fast and he would die, too slow too little and he wouldn't make it back in time.

Ivan staggered to his feet, stumbling only once. But his determination was set, and with a deep heave of breath, he took that first step forward, back to his companions.

* * *

Being disturbed was never something that was readily available in Alex's vocabulary. That did not change even after the most recent of events that he had just witnessed. In fact, he may have even described himself as pleasantly surprised.

Alex could handle surprise. What could he could not handle was shear confusion.

Lance showed no outward affinity to Jupiter's grace. This ultimately meant that he should have no way into someone's mind. That was a physical impossibility. Beyond this, that hypnosis of his, the way his voice was sultry and seductive to Sheba, it just blew his mind. There was no physical way that Lance could make her mind do a complete turnabout like that.

He had to "interrogate" him, as he so lovingly dubbed, about the entire situation.

Alex found that the perfect time to do so was after they had landed, a far distance north from where they picked up the now rather psychotic girl. Lance had asked her, in a commanding but somehow gentle way, to set up a small camp for them for the night. Agreeing to this almost too much like a minion, she started to prance about, busily making a "perfect" area to sleep.

Beckoning Lance over some, he now found them both standing off to the side, neatly away from Sheba's ear shot.

"Lance," he started reasonably. "Not that I doubt you in any way, but would you mind kindly explaining how she actually came to join our quest? I have tried to deduce the understandable reason, and I have found that that reason must be perpetually impossible to obtain without your input. So really, appease my need of intelligence, if you please."

Lance gave him a rather dull look, considering if his younger sibling had that entire speech prepared or not; and then just chalked the whole thing up to irrelevant. Letting his sanity slide, he gave him a sparkling smile.

"Tell me, would you throw a gift you were just given into a pile of flames? I hope not, because that would be just moronic. What you saw was me being very lucky. Very, very lucky. I attempted what I knew only had a small chance of working, and if it didn't work, then they both would be very dead right now. Mainly because I would have ripped their bellies asunder, but that is aside from the point. Essentially, I called upon scrolls that I had only read in passing, during one of my many travels across Weyard. Now this scroll was very old indeed. The language… it must have been translated multiple times, because the language was extremely broken. But I could read it. And you would never believe the chants and seals and curses that this scroll held. All derived from 'neutral' Psynergy, the type that all of us may use."

"There is really only one that I used on her, and it was apparently, very unreliable. Whatever affinity Psynergy you are, be Venus, Mars, whatever, it takes that and uses it to 'caress' the victims mind. From there, you can formulate any submerged memory that they have, even if they themselves have no feasible way of remembering it. In Sheba's case, that was the death of her parents."

"Now you may say to me, 'But Lance, how on Weyard would you know that her mind held such memories?'" Alex saw Lance's eyes blatantly shimmer in glee, and knew his older brother was extremely proud of himself.

Or just insane.

"Well, little brother, I shall tell you. I had a hunch. Anemos, in any historical context, has never been the society to openly put a child potentially up to death on a faraway world. I assumed that if this happened to her, and she was a legitimate child of Anemos, then her parents must have done something most deplorable during her short time there. Did I know whatever crime that may have been? No, but what did actually happen could not have been more auspicious for my needs. Really, that scenario could not have been any easier to manipulate. And if Sheba ever finds out the 'truth' of this whole thing, it is a non-issue because she is my loving minion. No one could ever take her away from me, and I could kill her in a heartbeat if treachery exists in her heart. In any case, I just obtained a useful slave that will always bend to my whim, and work in my favor."

Now Alex could say he was ever so slightly physically disturbed. Lance had somehow been through more than he could have ever realistically imagined. What's more… he was far too dangerous to be trusted. Alex would have to charge himself insane to follow a man like that.

And yet, follow him he would. He found himself strangely intrigued by the near split personality he exhibited. And the power that he promised, it was all too worth the risk. If he died attempting this, it was not a huge problem, because he would die if his brother succeeded anyway. But if he achieved… well, the possibilities were quite literally, endless.

Lance gave him another cheeky grin, swiftly becoming characteristic of him, and said obviously, "So now you know. Enjoy your new found knowledge brother, as well as your new friend and accomplice."

He watched as Lance turned about, stalking off back to the now rather ready camp, and say something inaudible to Sheba. She gave a cursory smile, and proceeded to find a near bedroll to lie on. Lance gave Alex another look and distinguished grin, and then went to his own bedroll.

Alex stared at the fire betwixt them, his mind moving sluggishly with this new influx of information. So different his life now was compared to just a mere month ago. So new a direction, and yet, so completely exciting. He knew of no way to show it, much like most emotions to him now, but giddiness he felt was clearly there. It was a roaring ocean in the pit of his chest, waiting to burst from his lungs in great belches of mirth.

This was going to be fun, and most definitely fascinating.

Even with that, Alex refused to giggle as he walked to the camp and to a sleep abundantly filled with dreams.

* * *

AN: Yes, I know, that was a lot. But that's my return for taking forever. If things seem confusing, that's because they are. Everything will eventually be explained, even if things seem "off". Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are welcome!


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